


Feathers

by MJBadger



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJBadger/pseuds/MJBadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Not that Patrick has been snagging many souls or causing much in the way of mischief, lately. He supposes he should go out at some point and play a bit of catch-up. He assumes Jonny's been hanging out on park benches and saving jackasses left and right.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> In which Jonny is an angel, and Patrick is a lazy demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cereus_black](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereus_black/gifts).



> As you can probably gather from the length, this fic was intended to be multichapter. Since it's finished I've decided to post it all at once rather than fill the tag with several posts.  
> **=chapter break  
> ****=POV change
> 
> For Erica, because I'm the worst and I didn't save anything clever to post on your FB wall or finish any Brayden/Coots in time for your birthday. See you in a week, babe.

Patrick doesn't have much on his agenda for today. Hasn't, in fact, for a number of days. He spent a week in Vegas making money and corrupting idiots and now he's in Chicago, in an apartment with a view. It's winter time and Patrick has always loved Chicago in the winter, when the wind is so cold it's nearly unbearable. Humans are hilariously weak to the cold, they get depressed when there's not enough sun, they're easier to manipulate.

 

Not that Patrick has been snagging many souls or causing much in the way of mischief, lately. He supposes he should go out at some point and play a bit of catch-up. He assumes Jonny's been hanging out on park benches and saving jackasses left and right. He hasn't heard from him in a while, Jonny doesn't have a cell phone or any other earthly things and so Patrick just thinks about him really hard until he shows up. He doesn't actually have that kind of mind-power, at least not over angels, but he likes to think maybe Jonny picks up on it anyway.

 

Patrick's known Jonny since they were created at roughly the same time, and he's been in love with him for approximately forever. Though he's pretty sure Jonny's been in love with him approximately never, especially since he was cast out, which was really just a big misunderstanding, anyway. He and Jonny were best friends, before it all went down. The whole thing was really stupid, Patrick thinks bitterly. Lucifer had turned into a massive dick pretty much immediately after they were kicked out and wanted them to all bow to him and Patrick was really, really not into that, so now he's sort of a free agent. He still has to report back occasionally, but honestly Luce is such a fuckhead that he rarely notices if Patrick hasn't checked in in a few years.

 

Jonny, on the other hand, keeps pretty close tabs on him. Patrick knows it's just because he's a competitive asshole and he can't stand the idea of not saving twice as many souls as Patrick is fouling up at any given time. He also seems to worry about Patrick, but maybe he's just imagining it.

 

Jonny doesn't eat or sleep or do much of anything human very often, even though he could if he wanted to. Patrick doesn't have to do any of those things, either, but the longer he hangs around on earth the more he enjoys eating and sleeping and fucking. He _really_ enjoys fucking, it's one of the few things that can make him forget all the hassle and missing Heaven (and he really does miss it, desperately, sometimes). He thinks about Jonny when he's doing it, mostly. It's not like they could have ever, anyway...even if Patrick had stayed an angel they might have just been able to become a bonded pair of angels, which Patrick thinks is just a fancy term for married virgins.

 

And of course, now, they can't even touch, which Patrick thinks might be the hardest part about this whole thing. He can't resist, sometimes, even though he knows what will happen. He once touched his wings, a few years ago, and the pain was excruciating, the blisters rising on his fingertips in a few seconds. He's still not sure it wasn't worth it, though.

 

The cold doesn't bother him at all but Patrick puts a coat and scarf on anyway, so he doesn't attract attention. He puts an encouraging thought in the mind of the elevator man who is thinking about cheating on his wife into his head on his way out. It counts.

 

People are cold and angry, Patrick can feel their thoughts swirling around him on the street and it puts a little spring in his step. He heads for the subway and two stops in, there he is.

 

It's ridiculous how his demon heart flutters when he sees him. He's beautiful as ever, even though Patrick always told him he made an ugly angel, with his big black eyes. "Don't you see the paintings the humans make?" he'd say. "They all look like me. You can't even smile."

 

But he's glowing, his wings spread wide. Patrick's the only one on the train that can see them and he feels a little smug. There's a child across from him, though, who can't stop staring at Jonny. Sometimes little ones can still see. Patrick darts his eyes towards her and she screams, buries her face in her mother's shoulder.

 

"Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with her..." the woman mutters apologetically. Patrick ignores her, turns his attention back to Jonny.

 

"What did you do?" Jonny says, looking at him sternly and over at the child.

 

"Nothing."

 

Jonny just glares at him, but he keeps quiet so as not to attract more attention.

 

"Where have you been?" Patrick says, raising an arm. He's never going to get used to not touching him.

 

Jonny's lips form a thin line. "It is a time of year when people struggle," he says, and Patrick laughs. Jonny still falls into this old-timey Bible language every so often and it cracks Patrick the fuck up. At least he’s not speaking Latin on the train. Patrick had to have a talk with him a few years back about that.

 

"How many have you saved this week?"

 

"Forty," Jonny says, and he actually looks disappointed in himself. "Your kind has been busy, though, corrupting and-"

 

"Hey, hey, don't throw me in with the rest of them. I haven't been doing much lately."

 

Jonny smirks, just barely but Patrick sees it. So competitive. The little girl has peeked out from her mother's arm and Jonny stares at her. It should be frightening, Patrick thinks, Jonny doesn't smile serenely like an angel should, he just stares without blinking. The little girl smiles, though, keeps her eyes on him and when she starts to turn her head to look at Patrick, Jonny shakes his head at her not to.

 

"Come back to my place," Patrick says.

 

"Your...place?"

 

"Place. Apartment. You know, one of those things that people live in? We could watch a movie or something?"

 

Jonny looks at him like he's lost his mind. "Movie?"

 

"Stop pretending you don't know English, Jonny, it's annoying."

 

"I have work to do," Jonny says.

 

"Come on, it's like forty to...two or something. Just come up for a few minutes."

 

Jonny closes his eyes and Patrick knows he's talking to the Father, and his heart hurts. He can't talk to him anymore, can't hear him when he tries.

 

 _Oh well_ , he reminds himself. _His fault for being an egomaniac._

 

"I will come to your place," Jonny says, and Patrick laughs again. Jonny touches the little girl's forehead when they're getting off the train.

 

"You just never fucking stop, do you?" Patrick says.

 

They walk back to the apartment and Patrick tries not to do anything on the way, but eventually they end up competing without speaking, planting little suggestions in people's heads. People seem more resistant to Patrick than Jonny today, though, and it's unusual. Humans are usually easy when it comes to evil, selfish, greedy suggestions.

 

"It's almost Christmas," Jonny reminds him, and then Patrick understands. It's that fake good will thing that the humans get this time of year.  It's always worn off by the new year, except in the very devout, and Patrick leaves them alone, anyway, unless he's in an especially bad mood.

 

They get in the elevator and Jonny glares at him before trying to undo everything in the elevator man's head that Patrick has planted there, and by the time they get out it's not clear who's won that battle. Patrick guesses the man is going to have a sleepless night, in any case, and that should count in his favor whether he goes through with it or not.

 

Jonny follows him inside and then he just stands there like a lunatic until Patrick pats the couch.  Jonny sits down stiffly.

 

"Do you want a drink?" Patrick says. He walks to the kitchen and frowns into his refrigerator. He knows Jonny won't drink a beer. "Some juice?"

 

Jonny hesitates for a moment.  "Okay."

 

Patrick gets himself a beer and pours Jonny a glass of juice. He sits in the chair next to the couch to avoid touching him.

 

Jonny sips at the juice and makes a hilarious face, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Patrick laughs. He can't remember the last time Jonny drank anything at all, he's forgotten how shocked he always looks.

 

"I'm glad I can amuse you," Jonny says, and it's infuriating because it's actually sincere. Patrick rolls his eyes.

 

They fall into easy conversation, though it takes a while for Jonny to lighten up and relax. He stares at Patrick, that same intense crazy look that he always has, and Patrick tries to suppress his smile, and fails, like always. He's missed him more than he cares to admit. He still misses him, even when he's sitting here in front of him. Patrick can still remember the last time they touched, the hug he gave him the day before he was cast out. Jonny always used to touch his wings, every time they were close. Patrick's were prettier than any of the other angels, softer. He still has phantom pain, where they used to be, can still feel Jonny's touch against them even though they're gone. It's one of the reasons he loves to sleep, he still has his wings in his dreams, he can still fly, he can still touch Jonny as much as he wants.

 

"How are the others?" Patrick asks. He hasn't seen anyone else in years, nobody comes near him but Jonny. "Duncan?"

 

"They're in Mongolia," Jonny says. "He and Seabrook, they've. Bonded."

 

Patrick nods, no surprise there.

 

"They miss you," Jonny says. He says it every time, and Patrick knows that it's not true.

 

"Angels aren't supposed to lie, Jonny."

 

They've had this conversation a million times and Jonny seems to be in no mood for it today. He hands Patrick his empty glass. "I should go."

 

"What about the movie?" Patrick says. His finger brushes against Jonny's and he jumps back, drops the glass on the floor. It shatters.

 

Patrick sucks on his burning finger. "I'm sorry," Jonny says, turning away quickly.

 

Patrick goes to grab a broom and dustpan.  When he comes back, Jonny's praying again.

 

"Could you not, for five minutes?" Patrick starts sweeping and Jonny ignores him, he's just muttering quietly with his eyes closed. Patrick sighs and goes to empty the glass in the garbage.

 

Jonny doesn't look at him for a while when he comes back, which is weird, but Patrick tries to ignore it and find a movie that might not offend Jonny too much. He settles on _Toy Story_ , and spends fifteen minutes trying to explain Netflix to Jonny before he gives up.

 

Jonny gets surprisingly into the movie, normally Patrick can't get him to focus on a TV screen for more than a few minutes. He even laughs, and it actually hurts how much Patrick wants to touch him then. He drinks his beer too fast and gets another and he's almost relieved when the movie's over, he hates for Jonny to leave but he's not sure how much longer he can stand to be around him when he's like this, smiling and relaxed like he so rarely is.

 

"You need to stay in on Christmas," Jonny says suddenly, when they're near the door.

 

"Why?"

 

"It's not safe for you," Jonny says. He looks uncomfortable, like he's hiding something. It occurs to Patrick that maybe Jonny isn't supposed to be telling him this, warning him of something, though Patrick can't imagine what it might be.

 

"Just draw a line and stay in," Jonny says. "Promise me."

 

"I don't understand what the big deal-"

 

"Just promise." Jonny says, and the look on his face means he's not going to leave until Patrick says it. "Please."

 

"Fine, I promise," Patrick says. Jonny stares at him for a few seconds more, as if to convince himself, and then he nods and heads for the elevator.

 

Patrick's sort of grumpy and on edge after he leaves, so he heads to the bar to pick someone up. He walks around the place a few times before he spots a guy who looks barely old enough to be there. He's incredibly good-looking, almost infuriatingly cute. He's flirting with the bartender but Patrick makes sure the bartender starts thinking about his boyfriend and feeling guilty and soon he turns away and starts washing glasses. The cute guy doesn't seem very disappointed, though, he just turns his attention back to his beer, leaning back against the bar to scan the crowd.

 

Patrick slides up next to him and introduces himself.

 

"Tyler," the guy says, and he snakes his hand out and as soon as Patrick grabs it he's gone. It takes him all of ten minutes to get him back to his apartment and into his bed.

 

Patrick's in an indulgent mood, so he doesn't kick Tyler out of his bed right away when they're finished. He lays there for a while, staring at the ceiling, and then Tyler rolls over to face him, props himself up on his elbow.

 

"You're cute," Patrick says.

 

Tyler yawns. "I know. So who's Jonny?"

 

Patrick jumps a little. "What?"

 

"Jonny. You said his name a couple of times." Tyler doesn't look angry or anything, just curious. "Ex boyfriend?"

 

"No," Patrick says. "Just someone I can't have."

 

Tyler nods and then he's thinking about someone, Patrick can hear his thoughts and they're so loud he almost covers his ears to quiet it down.  

 

"Just tell him," Patrick says.

 

"Tell who what?" Tyler sits up.

 

"Brad, is that his name? If you can touch him, do it," Patrick says. "Just fucking tell him."

 

"How the fuck do you know Brad?" Tyler's up now, throwing his clothes on.

 

"Fine, don't, whatever."  Patrick pulls the covers up.   _Go kick that inflatable Santa in your neighbor's yard over and stick a pin in it,_ he thinks, then he laughs at himself because it's the tamest thing he's ever suggested to anyone.

 

He tries to sleep for a little while after Tyler leaves, mostly because it feels really good to sleep after fucking and also because he is desperate to dream. But he's restless, can't keep his eyes closed for very long. Eventually he gets up and goes to sit on the balcony.

 

It's snowing, big wet flakes that will stick and pile up by morning. The streets are mostly empty now, nobody on the sidewalk below, just a few cars here and there. There are Christmas lights in some of the windows in the adjacent building, wrapped around the railings. Patrick wishes Jonny were there, so they could go for a walk now when the streets are empty, the snow piling up on Jonny's wings, sticking to his hair.

 

He leaves the house late in the morning to go to the store. It's Christmas Eve, and there are a lot of harried last-minute shoppers around, easy targets. He doesn't do much, though, compared to last year. He'd even managed to get people to set fires in previous years, once to a church.  Making the baby Jesus statues disappear out of mangers all over the city was always his favorite holiday pastime, though, and he can't help but indulge a little today, taking a few side streets and swiping the statues, smashing some of them, hiding others in neighbor's yards and sheds, occasionally putting some upside-down crosses made of sticks nearby.

 

He stays out late, but remembers not long before midnight that he promised Jonny he'd stay in on Christmas, so he heads home and sits on the couch with a knife, staring at his hands. He told Jonny he'd make a line, but it seems so unnecessary and he really doesn't enjoy cutting himself.

 

He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut and does it as fast as he can.

 

"Ow, fucking Jonny," he mutters. He goes to the doorway and kneels, starts to rub a line across the threshold. He has to stop a few times to squeeze his finger and get more blood out.

 

"Pain in the ass," he sighs, but he makes sure the line is solid, no point in doing it if he's not going to do it right.  He settles onto the couch and starts watching a hockey game.

  
He falls asleep and has nightmares, nightmares that he can't wake himself up from. He feels his wings being burned off again and it's as real as it was when it happened. He tries to scream but no sound comes out.

**

Patrick is awakened by the intercom buzzing and he jumps. He's drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. He goes to the door to push the button.

 

"Patrick?"

 

The voice is vaguely familiar, but it could be anyone. "Yes?"

 

"It's Sharpy," the voice says.

 

Patrick's finger hovers over the buzzer. Sharpy? He hasn't seen Sharpy, hasn't heard from him since before he got kicked out. He's suddenly on the verge of tears.

 

"Sharpy? What are you doing here?"

 

"Let me up, it's freezing."

 

Patrick presses the button.

 

He opens the door when he hears footsteps nearing, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees him. He looks the same, of course he does, but it's been so long that Patrick had almost forgotten his face. His wings are dusted with snow and he shakes them out, stamps his feet and Patrick backs up to let him in. He's forgotten about the line.

 

"Patrick?" Sharpy tries to step forward, frowns when he can't move any further. He looks down at the line. "What's this?"

 

"Oh, I forgot-"

 

Sharpy smiles and tilts his head. "Trying to keep me out?"

 

"Hunters," Patrick says. "Can never be too careful."

 

"Hunters? Here?" Sharpy shakes his head. "This looks fresh."  Patrick's getting more uneasy by the second.

 

"Just refreshed it," Patrick says with a shrug. "It wears off after a while, you know."

 

"Well, come on out, then. I want to show you something."

 

Patrick hesitates. It's _Sharpy_ , he doesn't know why he feels so on edge. "I can't, I-" He stops before he says 'I promised', remembers the look on Jonny's face yesterday. He'd better not mention that he saw him. "I'm watching a game," he says lamely, and then continues in a rush. "I recorded it a few days ago, and I keep forgetting to watch it, and I figured, it's Christmas, better to stay in and let you guys have your fun." He smiles, waves his hand in Sharpy's direction. "Maybe tomorrow?"

 

"I've missed you," Sharpy says quietly.

 

And fuck, Patrick's missed him, too, and he hasn't seen anyone but Jonny in so long. His gut is telling him not to go and he promised, he _promised_ Jonny, but surely Jonny would make an exception for Sharpy. It's _Sharpy._ And he's smiling at Patrick and Patrick remembers how he used to sneak up behind him and hug him, tucking his arms under his wings, and how he always wanted to tag along when he and Jonny went anywhere.

 

Patrick steps over the threshold and laughs a little because nothing happens. Of course nothing happens.  And Jonny will never know he went out for a few minutes, he'll come back in an hour or two and stay in for the rest of the night.

 

"Have you been busy?" Sharpy says, when they step out onto the street. They start walking and Patrick just follows Sharpy's lead. They're heading towards the park, Patrick thinks. The streets are mostly deserted, a few children here and there playing with new toys in the grungy snow.

 

"Not really," Patrick says. "How about you? It's Christmas, shouldn't you be doing something?"

 

"I think I've filled my quota for the year," Sharpy says, and his smile makes Patrick nervous for some reason. "Besides, Jonny does enough for all of us."

 

Patrick nods. Jonny's probably saved twice the souls that Sharpy has this year, he thinks, and he smiles a bit at the thought. He's proud of Jonny, glad he's better at his job than any of the others.

 

They enter the park and the snow crunches under their feet and they don't talk for a while. Patrick jumps when he hears a swoop of wings overhead, he ducks and covers his head instinctively and then he hears a familiar laugh.  He straightens up.

 

"Corey?" he says, before he even opens his eyes. When he does, he still can't really believe it. "What are you doing here?" It makes even less sense than Sharpy being here, because Corey rarely leaves home, he's not the type of angel that hangs around on earth, helping people. His work is all done in heaven, he keeps records and guards the gates.

 

The uneasy feeling that Patrick felt when Sharpy first showed up is back, now. He can't believe that Corey would come to earth for some kind of casual visit with a demon. He shivers.

 

"Cold, Patrick?" Corey says, and Patrick shakes his head, because he doesn't get cold, not like they do. Corey should know this. But then he grins and Patrick realizes he was joking. He tries to smile back.

 

Corey laughs and reaches out to pat Patrick's cheek. Patrick jumps back, just in time.

 

"Don't-" he says. "You'll burn me."

 

"Oh, I forgot," Corey says. Patrick steps back and almost runs into Sharpy, he didn't realize he’d stepped behind him. He turns around and Sharpy's wings are spread and he's crouching a little, like he's getting ready to take off.

 

Patrick feels a little dizzy. It's not like he can't just walk away, or run, but they're close enough to him that he feels like they'd fold their wings on him if he tried.  He's not sure why that thought enters his head and he quickly tries to dismiss it. It's Sharpy, and Corey, he's known them forever, they couldn't possibly-

 

He hears a noise and looks to his right and there's a man, stepping out from behind a tree.

 

"Hunters?" Patrick says. He looks Sharpy in the eyes, turns around and looks at Corey. "Are you trying to kill me?"

 

"You're not Patrick anymore," Corey says, and his voice is shaky, he's staring at the ground.

 

"I am," Patrick says. "I'm still Patrick!" He wants to grab him, but he can't. "Corey. I'm your friend."

 

"You were," Sharpy says, and Patrick turns to look at him again even though he's not sure he wants to. He can't believe Sharpy would do this to him. He sees the man out of the corner of his eye, raising a rifle, he has all kinds of things strapped to him, probably holy water and blessed bullets and some kind of book to make sure he suffers eternally and who knows what else. He's clearly waiting for Sharpy and Corey to do something, maybe clear out, or give him a signal.

 

When Patrick's looking at the man, Sharpy grabs him by the back of the neck. He has a scarf on and so it doesn't burn at first, but when he tries to get away Sharpy pulls the scarf and then he has him, his hand burning into the flesh at the back of Patrick's neck and singing his hair, Patrick can smell it. He screams and struggles more but Corey's in front of him, holding him by his coat.

 

Suddenly he's in the air, jerked up by Sharpy, he's holding him with one hand at his neck and another at the back of his coat.

 

"Sharpy, don't-" he says, but Sharpy drops him. He tries to put his hands down to cushion his fall, hears a crack in his right wrist when he lands, the wind knocked out of him, a shock of pain in his ribs that doesn't ease up, just like the burning on his neck doesn't. He lifts himself up weakly with his good arm and looks up, he can see them watching from near the top of a bare, snow-covered oak tree.

 

"Fuck you," he says weakly, and then he turns his head and looks at the man and winks. He watches him pull the trigger.

 

It only hits him in the arm, but the pain rips through his whole body and he convulses a few times and starts to pray, because he can’t think of anything else to do. He knows whatever's in the bullet is going to spread, not that it will have the chance to. He can hear the man's footsteps, the crunch-crunch-crunch in the snow, and he can't move.

 

"Holy water next?" he mumbles, but it comes out sounding like nothing, he realizes he's just mumbling into the snow and not making any sense. He tastes copper, realizes he must have bitten his tongue. He spits some blood into the snow. He laughs a little, and then-

 

He's in the air again, only now he can't open his eyes. He thinks he must be dreaming about flying, maybe he's just asleep. Maybe none of this happened and he's still on his couch, safe behind his line of demon blood. Except he's being carried, by his coat maybe? His feet are dangling beneath him and he still doesn't have his wings back. He struggles to figure out what's happening but then it's all overtaken by pain and he passes out.

 

"Patrick."

 

Patrick tries to open his eyes and the pain shoots through him again. He can feel himself convulsing, his feet banging against the floor, and when it stops he forces his eyes open, because he's sure that was Jonny's voice.

 

He stares up at him but he can't talk for a moment. He must be dying, he thinks, hallucinating. He's hallucinating Jonny, he supposes that would be the last thing he sees before he's tortured for a thousand years or whatever the hunter has condemned him to.

 

"Dying," he mutters. "Love you."

 

Jonny says something, but Patrick can't understand. He tries to smile. "Fucking Lucifer," he murmurs.

 

"Patrick!" Jonny shouts and it makes Patrick jerk a little. He tries to focus.

 

"You need to get inside. Get inside and open the window. I can't get in this way," Jonny says. "The line."

 

"Made a line," Patrick agrees, his eyes rolling.  "Promised."

 

"Please," Jonny says. "Please, Patrick. You have to get inside. You have to open the window."

 

"Get inside, open the window," Patrick says. He doesn't know what the words mean. He says them over and over. "I'm dying, Jonny."

 

"Get inside and open the window!" Jonny screams. He puts his hand on the front of Patrick's coat, drags him and Patrick groans.

 

"Don't, Jonny. Hurts."

 

"Please, Patrick." Jonny says. "I'm sorry." He pushes up the leg of Patrick's jeans, grabs his ankle, hard.

 

"You're fucking burning me!" Patrick screams, kicking his leg out at Jonny.

 

"I had to wake you up," Jonny says. "I'm sorry. Please, get inside and open the window."

 

The words finally click in Patrick's mind. But he doesn't know how he's going to do it.

 

He tries to push himself over, off his back and onto his stomach, but he can't. He gets halfway over and falls back. "God, help me," he whispers.

 

Jonny grabs the front of his coat, pulls at it until Patrick's on his side, then he pushes at his back until Patrick's on his stomach.  Patrick lifts his head a little. He's right in front of the doorway. He can do this.

 

He stretches out the broken arm, it hurts much less than the other one. He can get his hand just over the line. He pulls one leg up, scrabbles at the floor with his fingers and pushes with his toes and pushes himself forward. Then the other leg. It's slow, and it's agony, but eventually he manages to pull himself into his apartment, over the line.

 

"Window," Jonny says. "Window, Patrick."

 

Patrick's fading, though, he wants to stop. He lays there for a minute on his stomach and screams into the floor. Nobody in this building will help him, he realizes. He's made sure they all forget he's there, that they never hear or see anything. He passes out for he doesn't know how long. When he comes to, Jonny is screaming at him.

 

"Get the window, Patrick, hurry! You don't have much time."

 

Patrick tries to think where the nearest window is. The kitchen, but he'll never be able to reach that one. There's a sliding glass door to the balcony but he doesn't think he can open it, it's locked and he can't stand up. His only other option is the bedroom.

 

It takes him at least an hour, maybe longer. He's not sure how he's still conscious at all, he can barely think of anything but the pain. He drags himself a few feet and then he stops and cries, he passes out a few times but he always hears Jonny yelling at him when he wakes up, begging him to get to the window, and Patrick doesn't even know why he needs to do it anymore. He only knows that Jonny wants him to, and he's dying, and he wants to do whatever Jonny wants before he dies.

 

Once he's under the window, though, getting it open seems impossible. He pushes himself up with his broken arm and it cracks, he tries the other arm and finds that it's completely useless. He tries again on the broken arm, pushing himself up as fast as he can and gritting his teeth against the pain. He's on his knees, he presses his forehead against the cold of the window to try to stay awake. He slides the lock over but only manages to push it up an inch or so before he can't handle the pain anymore. He collapses sideways, onto the arm that's shot.  He can't move any more. He keeps his eyes on the window, though, and after a few minutes he sees Jonny's fingers, pushing it up, his leg dropping over the window sill, his foot a few inches from the floor.

 

The window's still not big enough for him, even when he gets it all the way open, he squeezes in and his wings get caught and he has to struggle to get the rest of the way into the room. A feather falls and hits Patrick's cheek.

 

"Did I do good, Jonny?" Patrick whispers. He wants desperately to keep his eyes open but it's difficult. His vision is blurry.

 

"You did great, Patrick," Jonny says. "You're going to be fine."

 

Patrick shakes his head a little. He's not going to be fine, he thinks. But Jonny's here, and he said he did great, so he smiles, anyway.

 

"Do you have gloves?" Jonny says. He rolls Patrick over onto his back and Patrick groans. He just wants to sleep.

 

"Sorry," Jonny says. He pushes his hands into Patrick's pockets. "No gloves?"

 

"Nnn," Patrick blinks a few times.

 

"I'm sorry if I burn you," Jonny says, and Patrick wiggles his foot, tries to laugh, because Jonny already burned him. Jonny's not paying attention though, he's standing up and leaving the room and Patrick makes a low sound in his throat, he doesn't want Jonny to leave.

 

"I'm coming right back," Jonny says, like he understands what Patrick's saying even though he can't possibly. Maybe he really _can_ read my thoughts, Patrick thinks.

 

Jonny chuckles softly, and Patrick thinks maybe that's his answer.

 

Patrick drifts in and out for a while. Jonny's gone a long time. He comes back and pulls Patrick's coat off carefully. He wraps one of Patrick's ties around his arm, near his shoulder, and pulls it tight. Patrick tries not to swear or yell, but he can't really help it.

 

"I have to get the bullet out," Jonny says. "Do you want some alcohol or something?"

 

Patrick laughs a little, a pitiful little rasp.

 

"I'll try not to touch you," Jonny says, as though the burn of his hands could possibly make this any worse. Patrick's arm is already on fire. Jonny drapes his coat over his arm, though, above the wound, so he can rest his hand there while he tries to dig out the bullet. Patrick thinks to ask where he got tweezers, but he realizes they're too big to be tweezers, probably. Needlenose pliers? Patrick remembers he had some in a little tool kit that he bought to put together his entertainment center.

 

"It's in deep, I'm sorry-" Jonny grunts a little and Patrick screams.

 

"Just cut my fucking arm off, I can't-" Patrick stops when he sees that Jonny has the bullet. He's holding it out in front of him with the pliers, eyeing it with a look of disgust so comical that Patrick would laugh if he could.

 

"Jonny," Patrick says, and he starts to faint, the pain coming back to him all at once. He doesn't feel any better, though he knows the source of the poison is out. "Too late?" he whispers.

 

"I don't think so," Jonny says. "But this won't heal by itself, we need someone who can-"

 

"Fuck. You." Patrick manages.

 

"I'm going to get Oshie."

**

Patrick doesn't have much to do after Jonny leaves but lay there on the floor in agony, half wishing he would just die already. At least he wouldn't have to deal with the indignity of having Oshie help him.

 

Oshie's human, and Jonny loves him for some reason, and it's always pissed Patrick off.  Jonny had extracted a promise from Patrick early on that he'd never mess with Oshie, and Patrick regretted it almost immediately.  He met Oshie once and refused to say more than two words to him. Jonny had told Patrick how they met, a few years ago. Jonny had saved him from alcohol poisoning or some other ridiculousness and showed him that he had a gift for healing.

 

Patrick hated Oshie from the beginning. Plenty of humans had gifts they didn't know about, he didn't know what made this stupid frat boy so special, why Jonny spent so much energy and time on him. Patrick used to point out with regularity that Jonny could have saved a hundred people in the time he wasted on one stupid Oshie, and Jonny would always get defensive and tell him that he didn't have a choice, that it was all part of the Father's plan, which was typical Jonny. That was his excuse for everything. Patrick supposes that after he gets Oshie here to fix him up, Jonny will get all smug and 'I-told-you-so’ about it. But Patrick's not buying into this grand plan bullshit. The grand plan should have just included him not getting betrayed by his friends and shot in the first place, thank you very much.

 

The reason he hates Oshie most, though, is that Oshie likes Jonny. He _really_ likes Jonny, and Patrick could hear it in his thoughts the second they met, that he wanted to fuck him, and it made him want to kill him. Jonny was an angel, he didn't even know anything about fucking, and Oshie shouldn't be allowed to think about Jonny like that, ever. Patrick loved Jonny, when he thought about Jonny it wasn't dirty or disgusting the way it was when Oshie did. It wasn't the same.

 

Hours go by and Patrick wishes he'd told Jonny to leave a light on. It feels like the darkness is pressing down on him, it's hard to breathe and he starts to wonder if maybe it's not really night at all, maybe he's just dying and falling into some sort of permanent blackness.

 

Before long, though, he hears a noise at the window. It's too dark to see at first, but eventually he makes out the shape of legs, hears the sound of Jonny's wings scraping across the window frame.

 

"Patrick," he feels Jonny's breath against his cheek. "Are you-"

 

"Still alive?" Patrick tries to laugh and it comes out in a shaky wheeze. The light flicks on and he squeezes his eyes shut. Jonny leaves the room, he can hear him go towards the front door, the door opening and closing, soft words. He hears Oshie's voice and immediately frowns.

 

It's worse when they enter the room, and he can see that Jonny is holding Oshie by the arm, lightly, and he shouldn't be allowed to _touch_ him, Patrick thinks. It's not _fair_.

 

"Hey, Patrick," Oshie says. He kneels down next to him on the floor and Patrick tries not to look at his face. He's so angry and in so much pain he's not sure he'll be able to keep his promise to Jonny not to fuck with him. Not that he has much strength left, anyway, but he thinks he could pull some out if it would make Oshie suffer a little.

 

Oshie's not thinking about Jonny right now, at least, and Patrick's grateful.  He knows that Oshie's only there to help him because he likes Jonny, but right now he seems to only be radiating concern.

 

He looks carefully at Patrick's arms, moves them a little and apologizes sincerely when Patrick swears at him. Jonny stands over them, looking all wild-eyed and wringing his hands together and muttering.

 

Oshie runs his hands over Patrick's ribs, his legs, up under his shirt. He stands up.

 

"He should really go to a hospital, Jonny, I can't replace the blood-"

 

"I can't take him to a hospital," Jonny whispers quietly. "He's not. Not a human."

 

Oshie looks down at Patrick. "He's an angel? Like you? I thought-"

 

"Not exactly," Jonny says. Oshie's thinking that they're lovers and Patrick's glad, he hopes it makes him feel guilty, but it doesn't. He's just confused, and he's so stupid that the idea that Patrick's a demon doesn't even enter his head.

 

"Well, let's get him on the bed and I'll see what I can do," Oshie says.

 

"I can't touch him," Jonny says, and then Oshie's even more confused.

 

"Is he-" Oshie flails his hands around. His thoughts, _really_ , Patrick would be laughing hysterically right now if it didn't hurt so much.

 

"I'm not the devil, I hate him as much as you," Patrick wheezes.

 

"You can trust him," Jonny says, and Patrick smiles at him, lopsided. Then Oshie's arms are under his back and knees, and it's fucking humiliating, being carried like this. Oshie lays him carefully on the bed, though, and then he sits next to him and goes into some kind of trance, Patrick can't hear his thoughts at all. He just watches him as he closes his eyes and puts his hands on Patrick's arm, the broken one, first.

 

It feels like a low electrical current, just a buzzing under his skin, and then his arm doesn't hurt anymore. He takes a deep breath. Oshie moves to his chest, down over his ribs, to his legs. He presses his hands against the gunshot wound last, and it hurts so much that Patrick cries out, but it's gone in a second, replaced with that same low vibrating feeling. Oshie keeps his hands there for a long, long, time. Patrick closes his eyes and starts to fall asleep, his pain fading.

 

When Oshie lets go of him, he opens his eyes and then he can see and feel that Oshie isn't well. He's used too much energy on him, he's panicking a little in his thoughts but he's so weak he can't seem to get any real adrenaline going.  He's ghostly white.

 

Jonny doesn't even look at Oshie, though, he's leaning over Patrick, eyes boring into his.

 

"Are you well?" he says, and Patrick nods.

 

"Better," he says. "But-" he lifts his arm, marvels at the lack of pain. He points at Oshie, who is now leaning against the bedroom doorway. "He's not."

 

"Oshie," Jonny runs to him, catches him before he slides to the floor, and Patrick's jealousy flares again, even though he knows he's being ridiculous, Oshie just saved his life. He still hates that Jonny can touch him. He can't help it.

 

"I'll be okay in a little while," Oshie says quietly. Jonny picks him up and carries him out of the room.

 

Patrick thinks it might be nice to sleep, but he waits for Jonny to come back. Jonny stands by the bed for a moment and Patrick pulls the blanket out from under him, throws it over his legs.

 

"Sit," he says, and Jonny does, far down on the bed so he doesn't accidentally touch Patrick's hand.

 

"Are you sure you're better?" Jonny asks.

 

"Great," Patrick says. "Is Oshie going to be okay?"

 

Jonny nods. "He'll need to sleep for a long time, but I can take him home."

 

Patrick figures he might as well get down to business. "How did you know I needed you?"

 

"I could hear you, Patrick. I tried to get there faster, but-"

 

"Wait. How could you hear me? I can't send thoughts to any of you anymore."

 

"I don't know. I don't hear you all the time, but it just comes sometimes. Even after you were cast out," Jonny says quietly.  "I thought you knew."

 

"So that's why you show up when I-" Patrick sighs and shakes his head in wonder. Then he remembers the purpose of this conversation. "Did you know they were going to do it?"

 

"Not exactly," Jonny says. "I knew they were coming to earth on Christmas. I guessed it had something to do with you. I wasn't supposed to tell you."

 

Patrick is suddenly seized with panic. "Jonny. You're in a lot of trouble, aren't you?"

 

Jonny doesn't look at him, turns his head towards the door. "It doesn't matter."

 

"What do you mean, it doesn't matter?" Patrick yells. He wants to grab Jonny, wishes he could just shake him. "You could get demoted, or...or cast out-"

 

"I said it does not matter," Jonny says, his eyes back on Patrick and flaring in a way that Patrick's never seen. "I couldn't let them kill you. I would not-" Jonny stops, and Patrick wishes like hell that he could hear Jonny's thoughts, too, because he's dying for him to finish his sentence. He's not going to do it, though. His mouth is set and he's standing up, walking towards the bedroom doorway.

 

Patrick doesn't want him to go. "Can't you just. Hide out for a while?" he says, even though he knows it's a stupid question. Jonny can't hide, he'll have to go face his punishment. "What if-what if you're forbidden from seeing me again?"

 

Jonny whispers something in Latin and Patrick jumps off the bed and runs to him, holds back from grabbing him like he wants to. "What did you say?"

 

Jonny doesn't turn around to look at him. "I will accept my penance," he says, and Patrick lets him go, he doesn't have any choice. He watches Jonny pick up Oshie and step out the door, over the line that kept him out but can't keep him in, as badly as Patrick wants it to.

  
Patrick knows now why humans cry. He gives it a try and he doesn't want to stop.

**

Patrick doesn't leave the apartment for the next few weeks. He tries to think about Jonny as much as he can, hoping he can hear him.

 

But Jonny doesn't show up, and as the weeks pass he knows that he probably won't. There's a strange pull in his chest, though, something that tells him that Jonny misses him, that he'd be there if he could. It might be fantasy but Patrick clings to the feeling, anyway. It's the only thing keeping him going.

 

After a couple of months go by, he decides he should clean himself up, take a walk, maybe fuck some people up. Maybe find someone to fuck. He takes a shower and puts some decent clothes on and stares at himself in the mirror. He decides it's time to stop trying to mentally speak to Jonny, when it's either not working or Jonny has to ignore it. It's just making him crazy, it's making him want to cry and sleep, and he's a demon, damn it, not a fragile human animal.

 

"Get it together," he says to his reflection.

 

Of course, he should have known that _he_ would show up. He always has the worst timing. He sees his reflection in the mirror behind him and jumps, spins around.

 

"Luce," he says. "Get the fuck out of my apartment."

 

"Your apartment?" Lucifer laughs, tipping his head back and roaring like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. "You think you're human now, do you?"

 

Patrick doesn't dignify that with a response.

 

"You haven't been working," Lucifer says, once he's stopped laughing. "You haven't checked in lately."

 

"Fuck off," Patrick says. He's in no mood. He tries to push past Lucifer out of the bathroom but he grabs him by the arm and squeezes and okay, Patrick's no wimp but that shit hurts and he stops.

 

"If you don't get to work I'm going to take you back to Hell with me," Lucifer says. "There's plenty of work to do there, if you can't be trusted up here."

 

Patrick takes a few breaths.

 

"You've been up here a long time," Lucifer breathes into his face. His breath stinks and Patrick gags. "I don't imagine you'd like to leave your little apartment, would you? Not see Jonny again?"

 

"Don't you dare utter his name again," Patrick says, through clenched teeth. "I'll get to work, just don't fucking do that again."

 

"Good," Lucifer says, letting go of his arm. "I'll check back soon."

 

He vanishes in a cloud of smoke and Patrick rolls his eyes. Always with the stupid theatrics.

 

So, fine, he's going to go get some shit done, and he is near the door stuffing his hands into some gloves when the buzzer goes off.

 

He pushes the intercom button, his nerves on edge. "Hello?"

 

"Patrick? It's Tyler."

 

"Tyler who?" Patrick sighs impatiently.

 

"Um, Tyler Seguin? You took me home from the bar a little before Christmas..."

 

 _Great, this is just what I need_ , Patrick thinks. _Some random weirdo I fucked showing up two months later for round two._

 

"What do you want?"

 

"Um. Can I come up?"

 

"I'm coming down," Patrick mutters, and he wraps the scarf around his neck and hopes it's not some kind of trap.

 

He recognizes him when he sees him, that face is sort of hard to forget. He's smiling like an idiot and Patrick's not sure what makes him smile back.

 

"Oh," he says. "I remember you. What do you want?"

 

"I, uh. Sorry if I'm bothering you-"

 

"You're not, I just have to be somewhere," Patrick says. He tries to straighten his face out.

 

"I just wanted to thank you for." Tyler sighs and looks down and scuffs his foot around on the ground like a kid. He looks back up and his smile softens. "I don't know how you knew about Brad, but. I told him."

 

Patrick only vaguely remembers the conversation Tyler's referring to, but he smiles anyway and pats him on the shoulder. "Good, that's great." He moves to walk away but then Tyler grabs him and wraps his arms around him, embracing him in a tight hug.

 

Patrick's stunned for a moment, he hasn’t been hugged since he was cast out, that he can remember. But he's surprised how quickly he moves his arms around Tyler, too, pressing tighter against him. He starts to cry, without even willing it. "What are you?" he whispers, when he's finally forced himself to pull away.

 

Tyler just laughs a little, shakes his head and walks away.

 

Patrick walks down the street, causes a couple of minor car accidents, fills the passengers with rage so they're out in the street, screaming and threatening each other. But it's weird, he doesn't get any sort of thrill from it. He's even maybe a little disgusted.

 

It's because he _has_ to do it, Patrick decides, and he hates Lucifer so much that he can't even get any enjoyment out of it or have any fun now, since it's work. Leave it to Lucifer to ruin his good time.

 

He decides to walk to the bank and find someone to rob it, maybe the security guard. Make a big scene, maybe take some hostages. That should be good, spectacular enough to keep Lucifer off his back for a while.

 

Except when he gets to the bank, he decides to walk inside, just to hear the thoughts of the people there. There's a teller who has a sick baby at home and the security guard has a heart condition, he'll probably just keel over anyway. Patrick thinks to himself how stupid the management must be to let this guy work here. And then he leaves, and keeps walking.

 

"Drag me back to Hell, then," Patrick mutters. "Jonny's not coming back, anyway." He feels that familiar pull in his chest again and it just makes him angry, now, he's determined. He's going to do something evil.

 

He goes to the subway. Stands on the platform, waits for a train to pass. There's a woman and a child waiting in front of him, a homeless man whose thoughts are a placid jumble pacing around behind him. There's a crowd of people forming but Patrick has them singled out, he's ready to make his move, he's going to make the homeless man push them both in front of the next train.

 

He hears the rumble of the train coming and starts trying to tell the man what to do, but he's confused and Patrick's worried he might not have enough time. Eventually the man looks at Patrick, though, and then at the woman and her child. He starts moving in their direction.

 

“ _Push them_ ," Patrick thinks. " _Push them in front of the train_."

 

The little girl turns around, and then Patrick recognizes her. It's the little girl that could see, the one that was on the train with he and Jonny. Her eyes go wide when she sees Patrick.

 

 _What are the odds_ , Patrick thinks. The little girl hides in her mother's skirt, and then Patrick hears her thoughts, clearly, she's thinking about Jonny, praying.

 

Patrick replaces the thoughts in the homeless man's head with some nonsense and starts looking for another victim. He watches the girl and her mother get on the train. The little girl watches him out the window as the train pulls away, her mouth open.

 

Some more children come, even better. There's a whole group of them, holding hands and walking in a line behind their teacher. Patrick guesses they must be on some sort of class trip. They're not as small as the girl who could see, Patrick's fairly sure none of them would know what he is.

 

The homeless man has disappeared, though. Patrick tries to find someone else to do it. A businessman might be even better for shock value, he thinks, and he starts focusing on a man with a briefcase.

 

The children snake closer to the ledge, the teacher telling them to step back but half of them not listening. Patrick hears the train rumbling in the distance again.

 

But he loses his focus on the businessman, instead listening to the thoughts of the children, it's loud and there's so much there, first crushes and first kisses and worrying about their parents and spelling tests and thinking about lunch, it's all a jumble and it's all so beautiful that Patrick has to squeeze his eyes shut and try to get back on track.

 

When he opens his eyes, he sees the businessman twitching. He hasn't done enough, the man will probably just think about it, maybe dream about it. He needs to focus.

 

As it turns out, he doesn't need his businessman. One of the children drops something onto the tracks, she lets go of the hands ahead and behind and falls right over onto the rail with a scream. The train is close, now. Too close, apparently, for the teacher or the businessman or anyone else to attempt to rescue her.

 

Patrick didn't know he could move so fast, but the next thing he knows, he's on his stomach, stretching, sliding until he's sure he's going to fall down there with her. She's screaming at him and Patrick's not sure if it's because she can see what he is or because she knows she's about to be run over by a train. He gets a grip on just her fingers, not enough.

 

"Jump!" he says, and he somehow gets her arms and yanks her the second the train blows through, rolling them both onto platform.

 

The girl leaps away from him, screaming. She can definitely see, Patrick thinks. He thought these kids were too old for that? Maybe he just looks extra demonic today, he muses. He makes sure the rest of the crowd thinks the child's savior has disappeared into the crowd, and then he stands up and brushes himself off.

 

And then suddenly he realizes what he just did.

 

He saved someone. He came here to kill a child, or a few children, and he ended up saving one. And he feels good, happy, like he used to feel when he made someone lie or cheat or steal.

 

It doesn't make sense.

 

He walks home and the giddy, happy feeling quickly gives way to a jittery, fretful feeling. He messed up. He's going to have to go back to Hell. He's going to miss the earth, he realizes, even without Jonny he's going to miss it. He's going to miss the trees and the cars and the stupid sidewalk and the muddy slush seeping into his shoes. He's going to miss his balcony.

 

_What is wrong with me?_

 

He gets up to his apartment and turns the television on and tries to calm himself down. Maybe Lucifer will forget all about him. Or wait a few years, at least. At least then he'd have a little more time. Maybe he'll learn to ice skate, he thinks. He wonders how long it would take him to learn to play hockey. Hockey looks pretty fun.

 

Just when he's convinced himself that he might be safe for a while, though, the buzzer rings and his heart is pounding again.

 

It can't be Lucifer, he thinks, he wouldn't need to use the buzzer since he can just appear anywhere, the bastard. He walks over to press the intercom, wondering if maybe Corey and Sharpy had just found another hunter from Transylvania or wherever the fuck they managed to dig one up. Maybe they're here to finish him off. Or maybe it _is_ Lucifer, and he's just fucking with him.

 

"Who is it?" he says.

 

"Patrick? It's Andrew."

 

"Andy?" Patrick takes a deep breath. Andy's a low ranking angel, one of the youngest. It figures that they'd send a baby down to do their dirty work for them, he thinks angrily.

  
"Give me a minute," Patrick says. He goes to the kitchen for the knife again and makes another line, thick and solid. He gets a paper towel to wrap around his finger and by the time he's back to the door, the buzzer is going off again.

 

"Okay, okay. Come on up." Patrick presses the button and opens the door to wait.

 

Andy's all smiles when he comes up, even when he sees the line. Patrick can't help but smile back, even though he knows this is probably some kind of trap. It's not really the kid's fault he's being used.

 

"You don't have to worry," Andy says, putting his hands up and spreading his wings wide. "No hunters. Sharpy and Corey are gone."

 

"Gone?"

 

"Banished," Andy says, and he's still smiling. Patrick just feels sad. He loved Sharpy and Corey, once.

 

"Why?"

 

"They weren't supposed to use hunters," Andy says.

 

"What about Jonny?"

 

"He's home," Andy says. "I have a message for you."

 

"From Jonny?"

 

"From the Father."

 

Patrick exhales, he shouldn't feel so disappointed. "You're a messenger now?"

 

"Promoted!" Andy says with a grin.

 

"So, what's the message?" Patrick says, sagging against the doorway. He doesn't even care, he just wants to know more about Jonny, what he's doing, why he can't see him.

 

"You can be transformed," Andy says, his tone suddenly reverent.

 

"What." Patrick rubs his hands over his face. "What the hell does that mean?"

 

"It means, you can choose not to be a servant of Lucifer anymore. If you so choose, uh..." Andy closes his eyes, trying to remember the message word for word. "You can become human, and when you die you may return to Heaven."

 

Patrick is at a loss for words. A complete and utter loss. He might get to go _home_. He might never have to see Lucifer again, or do anything evil again, he won't be a demon anymore...

 

"Why?" he chokes out, finally.

 

"Because you have changed your heart," Andy says. "And saved a life."

 

"I didn't-" Patrick sighs. "That wasn't me, though, this guy Tyler came here and I think he did something-"

 

Andy smirks. "He could not transform you completely, or go against your will. You still made the choice."

 

Patrick slumps to the floor and sits cross legged, staring up at Andy. "So what do I have to do, just say so and I'll be a person?"

 

"That's it," Andy says.

 

"Will I be able to see Jonny again?"

 

"You may not," Andy says.

 

Patrick scrambles to his feet. "Then I don't want it!"

 

"Patrick, be reasonable."

 

"I won't do it if I can't see Jonny," Patrick says. "I'll take his penance, give it to me, I'll take it with me and I'll go to hell, I don't want him punished any more, and I don't want to be here if I can't see him, I won't. I won't." Patrick's crying again, and really, he's starting to wonder if he's just turning into a human without any kind of divine help at all. "I love him. I'll suffer for him, I don't care."

 

"Very well," Andy says, and he still has that same smile on his face, and now Patrick wants to punch him in his stupid mouth. He walks down the stairs and Patrick closes the door and goes to his room, gets into his bed and pulls the covers up to his chin. He decides to sleep, except this time it doesn't really feel like a decision. It's like the crying, how it just happened. He feels...tired.

 

He doesn't wake up until morning, when he hears his door buzzer.

 

**

 

He must be dreaming, he thinks, there's no way that's Jonny on the intercom, no way that's Jonny coming up the stairs when Patrick flings the door open.

 

But it's real, Jonny's there and Patrick can't really compose himself, his eyes are watering and his palms are sweating, which is new. He can't speak at all at first, he just stands there staring.

 

It takes him a few seconds, and then he realizes that yes, it's definitely a dream. It's a nightmare, because Jonny's wings are gone. He covers his eyes, presses into them hard with the heels of his palms.

 

"Wake up," he mutters to himself. "Wake the fuck up, what the-"

 

"Patrick?" Jonny steps closer and Patrick uncovers his eyes and steps back and this is definitely some kind of dream, because Jonny just stepped right over Patrick's line of blood, right into his apartment, and he's grabbing Patrick by the arm. Staring at him like he might kill him, which is a typical Jonny face that usually means nothing of the sort. Usually. Who knows what nightmare-Jonny might have in store for him, though.

 

He's still not waking up, though, and this wingless Jonny is still touching him.

 

"You're not dreaming. It's me. Jonny."

 

"No," Patrick says. "Your wings." He runs his hands up Jonny's arms, touching him lightly, like it's still going to burn. He moves his hands around Jonny's back, feels there like the wings are just hiding somewhere. But there's nothing, just the thin fabric of a shirt.

 

"I don't think I'll be needing them any more," Jonny says, and his lip curls a little, the way it does when he thinks he's made a funny joke that isn't funny at all.

 

"You-" Patrick chokes.

 

"I'm human," Jonny says. "Like you."

 

"I'm not human, Jonny, what are you even talking about?"

 

"You are," Jonny keeps touching him, rubbing his hands over Patrick's forearms. "We both are."

 

"No, I told Andy I wouldn't, I said I'd take your penance, I didn't want you to be-"

 

Jonny squeezes his arms. "You wanted to see me, so I am here. It was the only way. If I stayed an angel, I could not see you."

 

"You chose this? You. You're mortal. You chose to be mortal? To see me?"

 

"You wanted me to come, didn't you? I heard you-" Jonny's face is uncertain and he's squeezing Patrick's arms.

 

"Of course I did," Patrick whispers. "It's all I thought about." He's almost afraid to hug him, just Jonny's hands on his arms are a little overwhelming. But he steps forward and Jonny immediately wraps his arms around him, like he used to. Patrick buries his face in his shoulder.

 

He wants to say so many things, tell him how much he's wanted to touch him, for so long. How happy he is that he's here. He rubs his face a little into Jonny's shoulder and breathes and lets himself be held, for a while.

 

"Why would you do this for me?"

 

"You're my best friend," Jonny says. He presses his arms around Patrick a little tighter. "I knew you were still good, Patrick. You _are_ good."

 

"You let them burn your wings?" It's not a question, really. Patrick knows there's really no other way. "All that pain for me?"

 

"It was worth it," Jonny says. "It wasn't that bad."

 

"Already lying like a human," Patrick says.

 

He doesn't want to let go, ever. He's still afraid this might be some kind of dream. But pretty soon his stomach is growling.

 

"What was that?" Jonny says, stepping back but still keeping his hands on Patrick's arms.

 

Patrick laughs. "I guess I'm hungry? This is strange."

 

"It's even more strange to me," Jonny says. "I have a lot to learn, don't I?"

 

"Let's start with breakfast," Patrick says. "Then we need to buy you some clothes."

 

"What about jobs? Don't we need jobs?"

 

Patrick scoffs. "I have enough money."

 

"How did you get it?" Jonny says, glaring.

 

"From bad people, Jonny, don't worry about it."

 

Jonny crosses his arms. He's funny as a human, Patrick thinks. There's a subtle shift in his personality that Patrick can sense already.

 

"It'll run out in a couple of years, and then we'll get jobs, okay?"

 

Jonny still looks skeptical, but he drops it. Patrick finds him a coat, it's too small for him but at least he won't freeze to death before Patrick can buy him some real clothes.

 

The cold is a shock, but Patrick sort of likes it. His whole face tingles.

 

“Your nose is turning red," Jonny says. He puffs his cheeks up and blows a cloud of steam and Patrick does, too.

 

The strangest thing is not being able to hear what people are thinking. The diner seems deathly quiet, though it's actually busy and people are talking and clanking silverware and glasses. There's this dead space in the air where Patrick would usually hear all of the things people won't say out loud.

 

Patrick's paying less attention to the weird silence by the time the food comes, he spends most of breakfast trying not to laugh at Jonny and the ridiculous way he eats, his elbows all out and over the table like some sort of caveman. It's adorable and weird and Patrick hides his grin in his coffee cup.

 

"Is this healthy?" Jonny says, after he's already eaten three eggs and a pile of bacon and hash browns.

 

Patrick shrugs. "Who cares?"

 

"We need to take care of our earthly bodies," Jonny says, and Patrick can't help but crack up laughing at that. Jonny's not amused, though, and then he's drinking his juice and it just makes Patrick laugh harder.

 

"I am going to find out what is good for us to eat," Jonny says, and his face means business. "And we're going to eat it."

 

"We?" Patrick says. "I'm eating whatever I want."

 

Jonny scowls so hard Patrick can't believe it's not hurting his face. Patrick laughs some more.

 

Clothes shopping is easy, Patrick takes him to the place where he gets his suits and has him measured and after they buy him a proper suit he buys him some jeans and t-shirts, a warm, puffy coat and shoes, underwear and socks. He lets Jonny pick out his own pajamas and they are predictably hideous.

 

"You have it easy," Patrick tells him. "I had to steal everything."

 

When they get back to the apartment Patrick stuffs everything into his closet while Jonny stands in the doorway staring at him. He looks a little terrified.

 

"Where should I stay?" he says quietly.

 

"Here, dumbass," Patrick says with a grin. "The couch folds out. I mean. Unless you want your own place?"

 

"Folds out?" Jonny says. "I want to stay with you. At least until I know what to do."

 

"Or until you find a girlfriend," Patrick jokes, and Jonny gives him a weird look that makes him wish he hadn't said anything. He's probably overwhelming him with too much right now, he thinks.

 

He orders enough food for lunch and dinner and they sit on the couch and Patrick can't stop touching him, he's glad that Jonny probably doesn't realize it's sort of creepy that he's sitting so close. He touches back, though, he puts his arm on the back of the couch and squeezes Patrick's shoulder and Patrick starts to wonder, honestly, if he is going to be able to handle this for more than a few days, or weeks. It was hard enough when he couldn't touch him, but now that he can, he wants to kiss him, too.

 

Jonny's not really interested in the television, at least until there's a hockey game on. He leans over the coffee table, eating like a weirdo and paying close attention when Patrick explains the game to him.

 

"I thought maybe I'd learn to play," Patrick says.

 

"I want to play, too," Jonny says. "When can we do that?"

 

"We'll have to learn to skate, first," Patrick says.

 

Jonny spends the rest of the game staring intently at the screen, and when it's over he starts yawning.

 

"I guess we should sleep," Patrick says. "Get up, I'll pull the bed out."

 

Jonny looks at him like he's doing some kind of magic trick when he pulls the sofa bed out. He doesn't get in it, instead he follows Patrick to his room.

 

Patrick finds his ugly pajamas. "Uh. Do you know how to work the shower?"

 

Jonny just stares at him, shaking his head, and so Patrick takes him into the bathroom and shows him how to run the shower and where the soap and towels are. He brushes his teeth and realizes he didn't get Jonny a toothbrush, so he lets him use his and tries not to laugh at him.

 

"I do not like this," Jonny says, scrunching his face up at the toothpaste tube. "I don't like how it tastes."

 

"Oh, well, you still have to brush," Patrick says, stifling his laugh at Jonny's disgusted face.

 

Patrick's tired, but he has a hard time getting to sleep. He lays there with his eyes open and listens to Jonny fiddling around in the shower and shuffling back out to the living room. He wonders if Jonny will dream, he hopes his first dreams are good ones.

 

It's late at night when Jonny wakes him up. Patrick hears him walking down the hall and then a soft knock on his bedroom door before it opens.

 

"Patrick," he says, and Patrick sits up immediately, because Jonny sounds a little panicked. He wonders if maybe he had a nightmare.

 

"Jonny? You okay?"

 

"I don't...know."

 

Patrick leans over to the nightstand to turn the light on. Jonny's still in the dark hallway, so it doesn't help much, but Patrick can see that he's sort of hunched over.

 

"Do you have to go to the bathroom or something? You know how to uh. Do that?"

 

"That's not. It. I don't think?" Jonny steps into the room a little and then it's pretty obvious that he's hard.

 

"Oh, oh, shit," Patrick hadn't thought to warn him. Jonny doesn't know what an erection is, of course he doesn't. Patrick didn't, either, when he first got to earth. He spent a lot of time in the library, trying to figure everything out. And then a lot of time in gay bars, figuring more things out.

 

"Patrick?" Jonny's stepped into his room now, and Patrick's trying not to stare, trying to suppress the want that's stirring in his belly. He lays back down and stares at the wall.

 

"You'll be fine. It'll go down if you don't, uh. Just. Go back to bed, I'll explain everything tomorrow."

 

Jonny just stands there for a minute and Patrick thinks about it. Just telling him he can take care of it for him. And then he hates himself for even thinking about it, and for getting hard himself thinking about it.

 

"Go back to bed, Jonny," he says quietly, and Jonny leaves, closing the door behind him.

 

 _This is never going to work_ , Patrick thinks. _I'm going to have to get him his own place before long._

**

 

The next morning he takes Jonny to the library. Jonny finds the nutrition section and Patrick waits for him to get engrossed in his browsing before he wanders off. It takes him a long time to find what he's looking for, he thinks of asking a librarian but eventually he just goes to the computer and looks in the catalog. He thinks briefly that he should probably buy a laptop for the apartment and show Jonny how to use it. Not that he's very proficient at it, himself.

 

He finds a couple of books for kids about puberty and masturbation and tries to hold them so the backs are facing out, in case anyone should try to look. He's pretty sure that nobody is going to buy that he has a teenage kid. He finds Jonny in the cookbook section with an arm full of books and a determined look on his face.

 

"We need different food," he says. "We have to go to the store."

 

"Later," Patrick says. He grabs a few of the books Jonny's carrying and stuffs the other books in the middle of the stack. The librarian smiles at them oddly and Patrick hates that he can't hear what she's thinking.

 

Patrick orders them a pizza when they get back and Jonny complains about how unhealthy it is the entire time he's stuffing his face. Patrick takes all the books out of the bag and Jonny immediately goes to the kitchen table with one of them and starts talking about complex carbohydrates. He doesn't even pay attention to the other books. Patrick leans them against the side of the sofa and goes to the kitchen, sits there yawning while Jonny reads. It's boring, but he likes listening to the drone of Jonny's voice, the way his eyebrows go up when he thinks Patrick should be paying attention. Patrick stretches his arm out on the table and lays his head on it, smiles and Jonny looks up for just a second, then back down at his book. He moves one hand out and lays it on Patrick's arm, rubs it back and forth awkwardly for a second before he just leaves it there.

 

"I missed touching you," he says, still staring at his book. Patrick thinks he sees a little blush creeping into Jonny's cheeks, but he's probably imagining it. And Patrick knows it's not the same for him, there's no way it could be. What are the odds that human Jonny is gay? Patrick thinks of how the humans say 'snowball's chance in hell' and almost laughs. It's way less likely than that.

 

"I'm going to bed," he says, sliding his arm out from under Jonny's hand and sitting up. "I left you some books by the couch, you should try to read them before you go to sleep."

 

Jonny gets up from the table and starts heading towards the couch. "What kind of books?"

 

"You'll see. I have to go to bed." Patrick hurries to his bedroom. Jonny stares after him, confused.

 

Patrick gets into bed and pulls the covers up and buries his face in his pillow. He feels terrible, he wanted Jonny here so badly, to be able to touch him, and now that he has that he just wants more. Jonny burned his wings off and became mortal for him, and Patrick's still not satisfied. He feels like he really understands being human, now. Why they're so greedy even when they have everything they thought they wanted. He has more than he could have ever dared to even dream about and it still doesn't feel like enough.

 

Jonny knocks on his door after a few minutes. Patrick dries his tears on his sleeve. "Come on in."

 

Jonny opens the door. "Are you mad at me?"

 

"What? No, why would you think-"

 

"You can eat whatever you want," Jonny says. "I just don't want you to get sick."

 

Patrick sighs. "It's good for us to eat healthier.  We'll go get some groceries tomorrow, okay? And go ice skating."

 

Jonny nods and closes the door. Patrick can see the light on for a long time after. He thinks about going out to get a drink just to check on him. See if he's still reading. Except he can't lie to himself for long, he really just wants to see if Jonny is jerking off, and that is just super shitty of him.

 

He needs to get Jonny out of his apartment before he does something stupid.

 

** 

Jonny's still asleep when Patrick wakes up, there's no sound coming from the living room. By the time he's showered and dressed Jonny's awake, trying to fold up the sofa bed with his eyes half open. He attempts a smile at Patrick, though.

 

"We need to buy a coffee pot," Patrick says, and Jonny just nods and folds his sheets up and shuffles off to the bathroom. Patrick pointedly avoids looking at his ass.  

 

When he comes out he doesn't look much more awake. His hair is still wet from the shower so Patrick finds a beanie and shoves it onto his head. He stands on his toes a little to do it and while he's shoving as much of Jonny's hair under the hat as he can, Jonny puts his arms around him.

 

It's awkward, because Patrick is still on his toes, and their faces are close. Patrick's hands slide from under the hat to Jonny's shoulders and his eyes drift to Jonny's lips and Jonny tightens his hold on him. He's not smiling, he's staring at Patrick and Jonny's always looked sort of insane, Patrick's used to that, but this is different. It's the first time that Patrick's ever felt a little bit afraid of Jonny.

 

Jonny must be able to tell that he's freaked out, because he gets this little wrinkle between his eyebrows, and he lets go. Patrick exhales, he didn't even realize he was holding his breath. Jonny turns around and opens the door.

 

They walk in silence for a while, but eventually Jonny starts talking, and it feels okay, or at least not any less okay than it was yesterday. Patrick's a little hyper aware of Jonny next to him, but that's not much different than it's always been.

 

They're walking really close, and their hands brush together a few times. Patrick thinks about just holding Jonny's hand, he wonders how Jonny would react. He probably wouldn't realize that it's not something male friends really do, but Patrick doesn't want to feel like he's tricking him. He decides to just give Jonny's fingers a little squeeze.  Jonny looks over at him and smiles, squeezes back and holds Patrick's fingers for a few seconds before he lets go.

 

They get to the rink and rent skates and spend most of the time trying to hold each other up. Jonny's cheeks turn pink and he laughs every time Patrick falls down, tries to pull him up by his hands and usually ends up on his ass, himself. Patrick doesn't think he's ever seen Jonny look so happy, or laugh so much, not even in Heaven. He's even more beautiful as a human, somehow.

 

They skate until they're both hungry and sore and Patrick's ears sting, and then they get lunch at the diner. Patrick gets soup and a salad and Jonny orders the same. He still eats weirdly and Patrick wonders if it'll ever stop being funny.

 

He suspects not.

 

He's even more hilarious when they get to the store. They spend about two hours in the produce section while Jonny picks up and sniffs all the fruits and vegetables and consults the list in his coat pocket that Patrick didn't even know he had.

 

"Do you actually know how to cook any of this stuff?"

 

Jonny just blinks at him. "I have books."

 

"Well, don't get too much. We have to carry it home."

 

They end up having to get a taxi, since Patrick remembers that they need a coffee pot and Jonny keeps making a pouty face at him every time Patrick tells him that they already have too many things in the cart. It takes two trips from the taxi up to the apartment, but eventually they get it all inside and taken care of and Jonny starts cooking while Patrick hovers.

 

In the end the meal is decent, if a little bland. Patrick makes a note to buy some spices. Maybe some little potted herbs to put on the windowsill in the kitchen, he thinks...and then he catches himself. Jonny won't be here, living with him, forever, he remembers. He needs his own place, away from Patrick and Patrick's stupid love and his big mouth that is bound to open and ruin everything in time. And Jonny will probably want a girlfriend, eventually. A wife. Children, even. He thinks about seeing Jonny get married, Jonny with kids, and his eyes burn.

 

"What's the matter?" Jonny puts a hand on Patrick's wrist and Patrick flinches away, startled out of his thoughts.  Jonny's expression doesn't really change, but Patrick can see the hurt in his eyes.

 

"Sorry," Patrick says, and he puts a hand on Jonny's arm and feels him relax. "I was just daydreaming." He digs his spoon into his ice cream and stares at the TV.

 

The next few weeks are busy, they skate nearly every day and start taking hockey lessons in the evening. It's sort of embarrassing to be learning with a bunch of kids and old guys, but it's the most fun Patrick's ever had. And Jonny's amazing-he seems to have a natural understanding of the game, even though his skating still needs some work. He's serious about practice, so much so that Patrick almost misses the first few days when they could barely stay on their feet. He enjoys it most of the time, though, he likes Jonny pushing him and he likes having someone on the same skill level as he is to practice with, so he doesn't have to practice faceoffs with a twelve year old.

 

The big problem is that seeing Jonny so intense about something makes him even hotter. Patrick wishes all of that intensity were directed at him. Not to mention, there's something about seeing Jonny in all of his gear that shouldn't turn Patrick on but really, really does.

 

The last straw is when Patrick comes out one morning to Jonny doing crunches in the middle of the living room floor. In his underwear.

 

He's grunting a little, and his thighs are...oh, fuck.

 

"Uh," Patrick says.

 

"Oh, good morning," Jonny says. He smiles and sits up and takes a drink of something green from a bottle. He'd gotten a bunch of recipes from one of his nutrition books and Patrick had bought him a blender on the condition that he'd never have to drink any of it. Though he did taste a strawberry drink that Jonny made for him and it wasn't bad, even though it contained wheat grass and algae or something.

 

"What are you, uh. Doing?" Patrick asks stupidly.

 

"Exercise," Jonny says. "I looked some stuff up."  

 

Patrick immediately regrets getting a laptop, especially when Jonny starts doing pushups, because _fuck_. He's sweating and breathing hard and Patrick wants to run right back into his bedroom. He hopes Jonny doesn't notice that he already has half a boner.

 

"We should get some weights," Jonny pants, still keeping up a steady rhythm with his pushups.

 

"Yeah," Patrick says. "Maybe we should just join a gym."

 

"I'd rather work out here with you," Jonny says.

 

 _I'm so fucked_ , Patrick thinks.

 

**

By the end of the week Patrick decides that there's only one way he's going to get his mind off Jonny. He just needs to get laid.

 

Friday evening after their hockey lesson the coach pulls them aside.

 

"You two want to come to the pickup game tomorrow morning?"

 

"Sure," Jonny says, his face bright. Patrick nods.

 

"I think you two are going to be ready to try out for the B team in the spring," the coach says. "Play there in the summer league. It's no contact, guys and girls. Good practice. In the fall you can try out for the men's A team." He pauses and leans against the wall of the rink. "You started too late to get into the minors, but local hockey's not so bad. You can play for a trophy. We get some pretty good crowds come playoff time."

 

Jonny blathers on the entire way home about drills they can do to get ready for tryouts and he looks so excited and just... _hot_ that Patrick can hardly stand it. He hides out in his room while Jonny's cooking and then he eats his dinner quickly and goes back to his room to change.

 

Jonny appears at his bedroom door while Patrick is standing there in his underwear, looking in his closet.

 

"What are you doing?" Jonny asks.

 

"Going out," Patrick says. He slips on a pair of jeans. Jonny's staring at him with an odd look on his face, like he wants to say something important, so Patrick stands there for a few seconds, staring back at him, waiting.

 

But Jonny just says, "Where are you going?"

 

Patrick doesn't really want to tell him, and if he makes up something innocuous he's afraid Jonny will want to come along.

 

"I have a date," he says, turning his back to Jonny quickly and looking through his closet for a shirt. He can still feel Jonny's eyes on him, though.

 

"With who?"

 

"Just a guy I met a few weeks ago," Patrick says. He clears his throat.

 

"What's his name?"

 

Patrick wasn't expecting that question, so he just says the first thing that comes to mind.

 

"Uh. Tyler."

 

When Patrick turns around after buttoning his shirt, Jonny's not in the doorway anymore. When he comes out of the bedroom, Jonny's on the couch with the laptop.

 

"Need me to show you how to work the Netflix again?"

 

"No," Jonny says. He seems angry, and Patrick feels guilty. He guesses Jonny doesn't want to be left alone.

 

"I can stay home if you want," Patrick says, and Jonny doesn't look up.

 

"You shouldn't break your date," Jonny says. "It's not polite. Have fun. Be careful."

 

Patrick nods, even though Jonny's not looking at him, and he leaves.

 

It's a little harder to pick up without any special powers and without being able to hear what people are thinking. Patrick ends up drinking a lot more than he usually does, and the alcohol affects him a lot more as a human. He's a little wobbly on his feet when he finally approaches a guy who's been eyeing him from the end of the bar.

 

"Hey," Patrick slurs, smacking the guy in the chest. He's okay looking, Patrick thinks. He's had worse, anyway. Blue eyes, which are kind of a disappointment, but he'll do.

 

"Hey," the guy says back. "Buy you a drink?"

 

"Nah," Patrick says. "Let's just cut the crap and get out of here. Your place?"

 

"Sure," the guy says, and Patrick's relieved it's going to be so easy.

 

The guy tells him his name at some point during the ride to his house, but Patrick promptly forgets it.  The sex is terrible, and it goes on forever. Patrick's not sure if it's the booze or the fact that it's not Jonny. He hopes it's the booze.

 

He's out the door as fast as he can get dressed, and he realizes he has no idea where he is. He walks a while until he finds an intersection with street signs, and then he calls a cab. He's mostly sober, now, and he's shivering while he waits for the taxi, his sweat evaporating quickly in the cold night air.

 

He starts crying in the back of the cab, and he doesn't even really know why. Having a human body is so confusing. Thankfully the cab driver doesn't say anything, and for once Patrick's glad he can't hear people's thoughts anymore.

 

When he gets home he unlocks the door as quietly as he can. The lights are still on and the first thing he notices is the smell of burnt coffee. Jonny's asleep, slumped on the couch that he didn't pull out. It's clear he tried to wait up for Patrick and Patrick feels like he's probably going to cry again.

 

He wonders if he should wake him up, at least get him in a more comfortable position for sleeping, but he knows he smells like sex and even though Jonny wouldn't know what it is he doesn't want him to smell it. And he doesn't want him to see him cry. So he just stands there for a few minutes, watching Jonny sleep, and then he goes to the kitchen and turns the coffee pot off and turns the lights off and takes a long, hot shower before crawling into bed. He prays for the first time in a long while.

 

 _"I wish I could hear you_ ," Patrick says into his pillow. " _I don't know what to do._ "

  
****

Patrick keeps going on dates, even though he looks awful when he comes home, his face all puffy and his lips looking chewed on and his voice raspy. Jonny guesses it’s from the alcohol and he wonders if this Tyler person is an alcoholic, if maybe Patrick is becoming one. He worries.

 

He always waits up for him, or tries to, but Patrick never wants to talk to him or sit with him when he gets home. Jonny tries to give him a hug once, when he comes home, but Patrick flinches away from him. Jonny can smell him, though, he smells sweaty and salty and weird and it makes Jonny sort of sick feeling. He’s getting that a lot lately…a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever Patrick is on a date, some human feeling that he doesn’t understand that makes him feel restless and a little angry.

 

Jonny waits until one night after they’ve had a good practice to bring it up, while they’re eating dinner.

 

“Is Tyler ever going to come here? Can I meet him?”

 

Patrick shrugs and avoids his eyes. He pokes at his food with his fork and Jonny wonders if there’s something wrong with it.

 

“Is the food okay?”

 

“It’s great.” Patrick clears his throat. “Tyler’s not really. We’re not really seeing each other anymore.”

 

“That’s good,” Jonny says.

 

“What?” Patrick looks up at him, his brow furrowed. He’s smiling just a little.

 

“I mean-” Jonny stutters, flustered. His face feels hot. He hadn’t meant to say that. Why did he say that?  “I mean that’s not good. But maybe good for you not to drink so much. We have tryouts coming up.”

 

Patrick looks back down at his food and his smile disappears. “Yeah.”

 

Jonny hopes that’s the end of it, but a couple of weeks later Patrick goes to his room after practice and starts getting ready again.

 

“Are you going out with Tyler again?” Jonny stands in the doorway of Patrick’s room, flexing his fingers against his thighs. He wants to tell Patrick not to go but he doesn’t even know why. It’s not even the drinking, it’s...something else he can’t figure out.

 

“No, someone else,” Patrick says. He’s sliding a belt into the loops of his jeans and buttoning his shirt up and Jonny feels angry and sick and...he’s getting an erection? Which is quite inconvenient right now. He still doesn’t understand how these things work or why it happens when it does. It even happened last week during practice.

 

Come to think of it, it happens a lot when Patrick’s around, or when he’s thinking about Patrick, or when he’s had a dream about Patrick. Jonny dreams about Patrick a lot, and he dreams about kissing him pretty often, which makes him feel embarrassed and guilty. He researched it online and was reassured that human brains make up all kinds of things in dreams that usually don’t mean anything, or symbolize other things, but it was still upsetting to wake up and find that he was hard because of it. He never feels right masturbating after dreams like that so he usually just exercises instead. At least it’s healthy.

 

The problem is that when Jonny eventually _has_ to do it, he ends up thinking about Patrick anyway. He starts out refusing to, but it always ends up happening.

 

Jonny’s known that Patrick was gay since before he became a demon, and it was never a big deal. The Father made some angels that way, and some humans, and angels that became humans or demons stayed the way they were made, though they also got all of the physical feelings that went along with it and they could fall in love. Angels could love each other, too, and they could love humans, especially if they were assigned to watch over particular ones as guardians. But it was the same kind of love that God has for all of his children. Human love was something different, something that angels couldn’t understand.

 

Jonny never thought that he was gay as an angel. He didn’t give much thought to any of it, honestly. He used to see Duncs and Seabs together and wish that he had something like that, but he never thought about whether it would be with a male angel or a female one. He just assumed it would happen with whoever the Father intended it to happen with, or maybe he’d never be a bonded pair with anyone, and that would be okay, too. But now he’s wondering if he might be gay like Patrick is. In his attempts not to think about Patrick when masturbating he looks up pictures of other people on the internet, and he finds that images of scantily clad women aren’t very appealing. But then most of the naked men aren’t very appealing, either.

 

It takes a few weeks of browsing for him to figure out that he’s really only attracted to athletes, and that he’d rather see them actually playing a sport than standing around naked. Though he suspects that if he dared to watch any videos of men _doing_ something while naked he might enjoy it. He refuses to click on any of those things. He knows it’s wrong to be watching people, probably unmarried people, doing something together that should be private.

 

So he watches hockey videos a lot when Patrick’s not home, and he leaves them on when he masturbates, and he tries not to imagine that any of the men in the videos are Patrick, and he usually fails.

 

Jonny moves away from the door so that Patrick doesn’t see. He goes into the kitchen and gets a glass of water and stands behind the counter. He watches Patrick put his coat on and tries to smile but he’s pretty sure it comes out looking like something a lot less than a smile, judging from Patrick’s reaction.

 

“Are you okay?” Patrick says. “You look a little...do you have to go to the bathroom?”

 

“I know how to use the bathroom, Patrick,” Jonny says. “Have fun on your date.” It comes out sounding angry, even to his own ears. If Patrick notices, he doesn’t mention it.

 

“You don’t have to wait up, you know,” Patrick says. Jonny just nods.

 

“I won’t drink too much,” Patrick says. He’s hovering in the doorway. “Okay?”

 

“Good,” Jonny says.

 

Patrick stands there for another minute, fussing with his hair.

 

“You look pretty,” Jonny says.

 

Patrick’s face turns pink. “Thanks,” he says. He goes out quickly and closes the door behind him.

 

Jonny goes to the refrigerator and gets out a bottle of wine. He’d read that it was good for the heart and though he doesn’t really care for the taste he tries to drink a glass every few days or so. He pours a glass and drinks it quickly, standing in front of the kitchen counter. Then he drinks two more glasses.

 

He’s feeling a little dizzy after three glasses, so he takes the bottle into the living room and sits down on the couch. He’s warm, suddenly, so he takes his shirt off and turns on the television.

 

After half the bottle is gone he stuffs the cork back into the bottle and picks his phone up off the coffee table.

 

It’s Patrick’s old cell phone, he’d given it to Jonny when he got a new one. Jonny doesn’t take it with him anywhere and never uses it. It has only five contacts on it: Patrick, Duncs and Seabs (who are still in Mongolia without any cell service), their hockey coach, and TJ Oshie.

 

It suddenly seems like a very good idea to call Oshie. Honestly, Jonny’s not sure why he didn’t think of it before.

 

It takes him a few minutes to figure out how to make the call, and when he does it rings five times before Oshie answers.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Oshie. It’s Jonny. I’m. I need to ask you about. Things.”

 

Oshie laughs. “Are you drunk dialing me, Jonny?”

 

“Drunk dialing?”

 

“You sound like you’ve been drinking.”

 

“I had red wine. It’s good for the heart.”

 

Oshie laughs again. It makes Jonny smile, even though he knows Oshie’s laughing at him.

 

“Man, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being human. So what’s wrong?”

 

Jonny sighs heavily. “Patrick’s on a date. He’s always on a date.”

 

“Uh oh,” Oshie says.

 

“It makes me feel. Something. I don’t like it. I don’t want him to go on dates. I think he’s.” Jonny hiccups. “Drinking.”

 

“You don’t like it because he’s drinking? Or because he’s fucking people?”

 

Jonny cringes. “He’s not. Is he? He’s doing that?”

 

“You’d have to ask him yourself, Jonny. But probably.”

 

“But that’s. He can’t.”

 

Oshie’s silent for a few seconds.

 

“Oshie?”

 

“I’m here.”

 

“Tell me why I feel so bad.”

 

“You’re jealous.”

 

“Jealous,” Jonny says. “Jealousy’s a sin.”  

 

“Isn’t there something in the bible about God being jealous?”

 

“That’s different,” Jonny says with a giggle.

 

“So are you jealous because you want to be going out on dates, or are you jealous of the guys Patrick’s dating?”

 

“I don’t want to go on dates. I don’t. Maybe I do. I don’t want anyone to touch him. Or. Anything. Oshie. Do you think I’m gay?”

 

Oshie laughs. “I don’t know, do you?”

 

“I dreamed about kissing Patrick and I got an erection when he was putting his shirt on and I watch hockey videos when I masturbate,” Jonny slurs.

 

“Oh my fucking GOD,” Oshie says, and he laughs so hard he snorts. “TMI, man.”

 

“Don’t be blashphem- blasphemous,” Jonny says. “What does TMI mean?”

 

“Sorry,” Oshie gasps. “Don’t worry about it. Dude. You are so drunk.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jonny says. “I guess I am jealous. Patrick just. He shouldn’t... He should be mine. Not anyone else’s. He’s mine. He’s _mine_.”

 

“Ooookay, time for you to go to bed, Jonny. We’ll talk about this when you’re sober. I’ll be in town next week, okay?”

 

“Okay. I don’t feel well.”

 

“Drink some water before you pass out. You are probably not going to feel very well tomorrow, either.”

 

Jonny stumbles to the kitchen and gets a glass of water.

 

“Don’t fall,” Oshie says.

 

“I didn’t.” Jonny takes a few swallows of the water. “Patrick told me that you wanted to fffff...have sex with me. Did you want to have sex with me?”

 

“We’ll talk when you’re sober. I’ll see you next week, okay? Now go to bed.”

 

“Good night,” Jonny says.  He weaves his way back to the couch and promptly passes out.

 

****

Patrick only has one beer, because he promised Jonny he wouldn’t drink much. The problem is that it’s really hard to pick up without any kind of liquid courage. It’s getting harder and harder to pick up even when he’s drunk, if he’s honest with himself.

 

He thought it would get easier if he did it often enough, that eventually he’d feel like his old self, but he’s just starting to hate himself and hate the guys he fucks, too. And he can’t stand the way Jonny looks at him when he gets home, like he knows. Patrick knows that’s impossible, but it still makes him feel guilty.

 

He wonders if he’d feel better about all of it if Jonny were dating. As much as he hates the thought of him being with anyone else, he really does want to see Jonny happy and if he ended up with some nice girl Patrick would have to smile and bear it. At least then he’d probably move out, and Patrick wouldn’t have to see him working out in his underwear every morning or face his judgmental looks when Patrick comes home after fucking some random guy.

 

Jonny doesn’t seem interested in dating, though, or even in getting his own place. Patrick has to remind himself that Jonny’s only been human for a very short time. Patrick’s a little overwhelmed being newly human, and he’s been living like one for many years. It’s a lot more difficult for Jonny, Patrick knows.

 

And here he is, leaving him alone at night when he’s supposed to be his best friend. Because he’s selfish. Because he’s in love with Jonny and he can’t deal with him not feeling the same. Because he wants to get into Jonny’s pants.

 

A guy that’s been staring at Patrick for a while now wanders over.

 

“Buy you a drink?”

 

Patrick shakes his head. “Sorry, I have to get out of here. I’ve been a real asshole.”

 

The guy cocks an eyebrow at him. Patrick tosses the money for his beer on the bar and walks out.

 

It’s still pretty early, so Jonny should still be awake. Patrick tries to think of a movie he might want to watch. He can hear the television when he’s unlocking the door.

 

“Jonny?” Patrick walks into the living room. Jonny’s shirtless and sleeping against the arm of the couch. There’s a half empty bottle of wine on the coffee table.

 

“Shit,” Patrick mutters. “Jonny.” He shakes him by the shoulder a little.

 

“Whu?” Jonny opens one eye. “Patrick.”

 

“Why’d you drink so much wine?” Patrick says. “Come on, get on here properly so you don’t get a stiff neck.”

 

“Can’tgetup,” Jonny slurs. “I feel bad, Patrick.”

 

Patrick sighs. He considers taking Jonny’s jeans off so he’s more comfortable but decides it might be awkward if Jonny doesn’t remember anything in the morning. He grabs Jonny’s legs and heaves them up on the couch and finally Jonny moves a little and stretches out.

 

Patrick shoves a pillow under his head. “Did you drink any water?”

 

Jonny nods. “Oshie told me to.”

 

“Oshie?”

 

“S’coming next week,” Jonny says. He mashes his face into his pillow and starts snoring.

 

**

Jonny’s up early the day Oshie’s due to arrive in town. Patrick can hear him, the sounds of him exercising. He sits up and strains his ears to hear his breathing but all he hears is a low murmur. He suspects Jonny prays when he’s exercising out there in his underwear. Which Patrick would find weird if it were anyone but Jonny.

 

He waits until he hears the shower running before he gets out of bed, goes to the kitchen and gets a cup of coffee and toasts two bagels. He smears some Nutella on one and some light cream cheese on the other, for Jonny. He dumps everything Jonny has laid out on the counter for his protein shake into the blender, giving it a whiff before he puts the lid on. It stinks.

 

Jonny’s beaming when he comes out, all damp-haired and with his shirt stuck to him in a way that makes Patrick have to focus very hard on his bagel. He wonders if Jonny ever actually figured out that he’s supposed to dry off when he gets out of the shower. He’s always still wet.

 

“Oshie’s coming today!” he says. He practically bouncing when he grabs his bagel and dumps his shake into a glass.

 

“I know,” Patrick mumbles around his bagel.

 

“Are you getting dinner with us tonight?”

 

“Nah.” Patrick gulps his coffee.

 

Jonny frowns. “You still don’t like him. He saved your life, you know.”

 

“I remember,” Patrick says. “I like him fine. I just don’t like…” he pauses. “Anyway, I have plans tonight.”

 

Jonny’s face does something Patrick can’t even begin to figure out. He sits down at the table across from him and stares.

 

“Oshie’s gay.”

 

“I’m aware,” Patrick says. “I had to hear him think about fucking you.”

 

Jonny flinches.

 

“Whatever,” Patrick says, waving his bagel. “Tell him you’re straight, if he tries anything tell me and I’ll kick his ass.”

 

Jonny shakes his head and stares down at his bagel.

 

“Don’t think you’re going to like, set us up or something, either,” Patrick says. “Just because he looks like me doesn’t mean I find him attractive.”

 

“Oshie doesn’t look like you,” Jonny says.

 

“Yeah, he’s a lot fatter,” Patrick says.

 

“That’s not nice, Patrick,” Jonny says, but he’s smiling a little bit and it makes Patrick laugh out loud.

 

“He plays hockey, too,” Jonny says. “I’m going to ask the guys if he can join our pickup game tomorrow.”

 

Patrick tries very hard not to look as hateful as he feels. “I need a shower,” he says, and he heads quickly to the bathroom.

 

He manages to forget about it for most of practice, things are always easier once they're on the ice. They really don't need skating lessons anymore, but they go and help out the kids sometimes. Jonny's great with the kids, if they're big enough to talk and joke around with. The younger kids, three and four year olds, seem to gravitate towards Patrick.

 

It was a little weird at first, Patrick's spent years so used to kids this age being terrified of him, since they could usually see what he was. But now he looks forward to getting to the rink and seeing their excited faces when he and Jonny come out in their hockey gear. They may as well be in the NHL as far as these kids are concerned.

 

"Patrick!" screams a little girl with pigtails sticking out of her helmet. "Look what I can do!" She skates in a little circle with her arms out.

 

"Good job, Jessica!" Patrick grabs her hand when she skids towards him and almost loses her balance. Jonny's sitting on one of the benches, showing a boy of about seven how to tape his hockey stick. He's not really paying attention to the kid, though, he's smiling at Patrick as he twirls the little girl around him with one hand. Patrick smiles back and waves.

 

Eventually the kids break off into groups with different teachers and Jonny and Patrick skate around and help out where they're needed and take turns playing goalie for the aspiring hockey players.

 

They get lunch after practice, and they don't talk as much as they usually do. Patrick's thinking about Oshie arriving, and Jonny's just a lot quieter than usual. He's still smiling at Patrick, like always, but he seems like his mind is somewhere else.

 

"Everything okay?" Patrick says. Jonny picks his spoon up and Patrick notices his hand is shaking a little. "Jonny? What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing, I'm fine." Jonny takes a sip of his water. "Just excited for TJ to get here, I guess."

 

Patrick tries not to frown. It's bad enough that Oshie's coming, but Jonny calling him TJ makes it even worse. It grates on Patrick's nerves, for some reason.

 

They have a few hours to kill before hockey practice, and Jonny sits in a chair instead of next to Patrick on the couch like he usually does. He spends the entire time staring at his laptop, glancing up every time Patrick moves, like he’s afraid he’s going to walk over there and look over his shoulder.

 

Patrick tries to watch TV but he’s mostly just wondering what Jonny’s up to, and why he’s not sitting next to him. He guesses he’s looking up something he’s embarrassed about, and it depresses him a little that Jonny doesn't just ask _him_. Then again, Patrick supposes he hasn’t been that great of a friend lately. It’s no wonder.

 

“What are you looking up?” Patrick asks, finally. Jonny looks up, and his face turns red.

 

“Nothing,” he says, and snaps the laptop closed.

 

“If something’s bothering you…” Patrick sighs. “You can talk to me about anything, okay? Don’t be embarrassed.”

 

Jonny nods and stares at his hands. “I’m fine,” he says. They don’t talk anymore until they leave for practice. Jonny seems back to himself by the time they’re back on the ice, and Patrick forgets about it until they’re home.

 

His stomach roils when he hears the buzzer. Jonny practically skips to the door, and he hugs Oshie for so long it’s embarrassing. Patrick watches from the doorway of his bedroom, where they won’t notice him. Oshie has his hand on the back of Jonny’s neck and he’s smiling at him like an idiot and even though Patrick can’t see Jonny’s face he knows he’s smiling back just as stupidly and it makes Patrick want to punch Oshie in his stupid fratboy face.

 

But he’s Jonny’s friend, and he saved Patrick’s life, and Patrick’s determined that he’s not going to be an asshole. He walks out to the living room and shakes Oshie’s hand.

 

“You look a lot better than the last time I saw you,” Oshie says. Patrick resists the urge to roll his eyes.

 

“Nice seeing you,” Patrick says.

 

“You coming to dinner?” Oshie says. “It’s on me.”

 

“Sorry, I can’t. Got a date,” Patrick says.

 

Jonny’s mouth turns down at the corners, but he doesn’t say anything. They all walk out to the elevator and ride down together and then Patrick heads in the opposite direction.

 

“Don’t wait up,” Oshie says over his shoulder. Jonny’s not looking, so Patrick flips him off.  He circles around the block and goes back up to the apartment after he’s sure they’re gone.

 

He tries to talk himself out of it, but Patrick’s never been very good at resisting temptation. And he’s worried about Jonny. He tells himself he’s only looking out for him when he opens the laptop and goes to the search history.

 

****

 

Jonny’s excited to see TJ, but he’s a little distracted. He spends most of dinner fidgeting and wondering what Patrick’s doing, who he’s out with, whether he’s having sex with someone, since TJ  said he’s probably doing that. The thought makes him lose his appetite. But TJ’s paying for it, so he forces himself to keep eating.

 

“How have you been?” Jonny asks. “How’s St. Louis?”

 

“Great,” Oshie says. He clears his throat. “I, uh. Met someone.”

 

Jonny blinks at him.

 

Oshie laughs. “I keep forgetting you don’t know what shit means. I mean, I have a boyfriend now.”

 

“Oh,” Jonny says. “That’s great!”

 

“His name’s Patrik,” Oshie says. “Figures, right?”

 

Jonny laughs. Oshie takes out his phone and passes it across the table. There’s a picture of him with his arm around a taller man, and they’re both smiling. Jonny thinks of Patrick and he feels sad.

 

“I’m happy for you,” Jonny says, and he mostly means it.

 

“So,” Oshie says, while they’re waiting for the check. “Are you going to tell me what that phone call was about, or do I need to get you drunk?”

 

Jonny stares at the table.

 

“Okay,” Oshie says. “We’re going back to my room.” He hands his money to the waiter and Jonny follows him out.

 

****

  
The first thing in Jonny’s search history is ‘how to tell someone you’ which apparently Jonny was typing when he snapped the laptop shut. Patrick frowns. _How to tell someone you what?_

 

He scrolls further. There are a few random links where Jonny clicked back to the news or weather and then there’s a search for ‘how to tell if someone wants to have sex with you’, followed by ‘how to kiss’, followed by ‘stomach problems’.

 

Patrick feels like he should close the laptop now, but he can’t stop himself. There’s not much else in the history for a few more days, just a lot of hockey videos. Then he gets to the day after Oshie called, the day after Patrick came home to find Jonny drunk on the couch.

 

There’s a search for ‘How do I know if I’m gay’.

 

Patrick closes the laptop.

 

It all clicks together in his mind, why Jonny’s been acting so weird. Jonny’s gay. And Patrick had no idea.

 

“I’m so _stupid_ ,” Patrick says, out loud. It all makes sense now, why Jonny sat at the table that morning looking embarrassed and said ‘Oshie’s gay.’ Why he was so nervous all day. And Patrick told Jonny that Oshie wanted to fuck him.

 

Now they’re on a date, and Jonny looked up how to kiss, and _Jonny knows that Oshie wants to fuck him_. Oshie’s probably trying to get into his pants right now and it’s all thanks to Patrick practically telling Jonny to go for it and pretending he had a reason not to go to dinner.

 

Patrick’s stomach hurts and his eyes are watering. He feels like he should go find them, but he doesn’t even know where Oshie’s staying. He paces around the apartment. What if Jonny moves to St. Louis? What if Oshie moves to Chicago? He can’t decide if it would be worse to see them together all the time or to not see Jonny at all. And as much as he hates it, he hopes Oshie’s a better guy than Patrick thinks he is. If Jonny really likes him, he hopes at least that Oshie really likes him, too, and isn’t just trying to get laid.

 

****

  
When they get to Oshie’s room, he unzips his suitcase and pulls out a bottle of scotch. He pours Jonny a glass and sits next to him on the end of his bed.

 

“You travel with liquor?” Jonny says. He sniffs the glass and makes a face.

 

“I brought it for you,” Oshie says. He laughs. “That’s very expensive scotch you’re frowning at.”

 

“Thank you,” Jonny says. He still thinks it tastes awful but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he keeps sipping. “You’re not trying to have sex with me, are you?”

 

Oshie laughs. “No, Jonny.”

 

“Patrick said you thought about it. Did you think about it?”

 

“Sure,” Oshie says, and he laughs again. “Dude, your face.”

 

“Sorry,” Jonny says.”But…”

 

“Let me tell you something about gay guys, Jonny. Well. Straight guys, too. All guys. They think about that. A lot. It’s not really…” He sighs. “I like you, and you’re attractive, so I thought about it.”

 

Jonny holds his glass out and Oshie pours him some more scotch.

 

“I’m sorry if it bothers you,” Oshie says. “It’s not like I could really _not_ think about it, you know?”

 

“I know,” Jonny says. “I have thoughts I can’t control, either.”

 

“About Patrick?”

 

Jonny nods. “I think about kissing him a lot. It’s not only that, though. He makes me feel...I don’t know.”

 

“You love him?” Oshie says.

 

“Well, I’ve always loved him, he’s my best friend. But I don’t know what human love is supposed to feel like. Romantic love.” Jonny sighs. “I know it’s not just about wanting to kiss.”

 

Oshie nods, so Jonny keeps talking. “When he goes on dates it makes me jealous. When I think about someone else touching him it makes me angry. I feel like he’s mine and nobody else should be able to...” Jonny gulps more of the scotch. “When he smiles I feel this…” he pats his stomach and Oshie laughs.

 

“They’re called butterflies,” Oshie says.

 

“Butterflies,” Jonny whispers. “He’s so pretty when he laughs. And the kids at the rink love him. And he’s really good at hockey.” Jonny chews on his lip. “And I want to be around him all the time.”

 

Oshie pats his leg. “Sounds like love to me.”

 

“But what can I do about it?”

 

“Tell him how you feel,” Oshie says.

 

“I can’t do that,” Jonny says.

 

“Why not?”

 

“He doesn’t love me that way,” Jonny wipes his eyes with his sleeve.

 

“How do you know?” Oshie says.

 

“He would have told me!”

 

“Maybe he’s just as afraid as you are.”

 

“Patrick’s not afraid of anything,” Jonny says fiercely.

 

“If he doesn’t feel the same way, you can still be friends, right?”

 

“I won’t be able to live there anymore,” Jonny says. “I couldn’t.”

 

“Look,” Oshie says. “Talk to him. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll help you find a place. Okay?”

 

“I guess.”

 

“I don’t think you need to worry about it, though. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” He punches Jonny lightly in the arm. “I’m pretty sure he’s been in love with you forever.”

 

“What if he is, though?” Jonny suddenly can’t decide which is worse. “If I tell him, and he...what do I do then?”

 

Oshie grins. “Then you kiss him.”

 

“I couldn’t. I don’t even know how.”  Jonny’s not stupid, he’s seen people kiss and he has the basic idea, he’s just not sure if there are rules or steps that he doesn’t know about. He looked it up on the internet and nothing he read was helpful at all. He sits up straighter. “Show me.”

 

Oshie laughs. “Fine, but if you tell on me I’m going to punch you.”

 

“I won’t,” Jonny says. He feels his face getting hot.

 

“Close your eyes,” Oshie says, and Jonny does, and then Oshie leans in and presses their lips together.

 

Oshie’s lips are soft. Jonny tilts his head and parts his lips a little, like he’s seen in movies, and Oshie bites gently at his lower lip and slides his fingers into Jonny’s hair, and then their tongues are brushing together and Jonny makes a little sound in his throat. It feels like it does in his dreams, and he’s thinking about Patrick. He blinks and looks away quickly when Oshie pulls away and swallows the rest of his drink.

 

“Thank you,” he says. “I guess I should go.”

 

“I’ll walk you back,” Oshie says.

 

It’s a long walk back, and Jonny’s glad for the chance to sober up. But the more he sobers up, the more embarrassed he feels, for crying in front of Oshie, for kissing him. He also starts to lose his resolve to talk to Patrick about his feelings.

 

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Oshie says. He puts a hand to the back of Jonny’s neck and squeezes and Jonny feels a little better.

 

He expects that Patrick’s still out, so he’s surprised when he sees light coming from under the door and finds it unlocked.

 

****

  
Patrick’s surprised to hear the door open, and he’s half expecting Oshie to be there with Jonny when he comes out of the kitchen. But it’s just Jonny, alone. He’s standing in front of the closed door.

 

“Patrick? You’re home early.”

 

“You too.” Patrick says. “Is everything okay?” It’s clearly not, Jonny looks terrified and he’s not moving away from the door. Patrick walks closer. “Jonny? Did Oshie scare you or something? Are you-”

 

“No, it’s fine. Oshie and I are fine.”

 

 _Oshie and I_. Patrick hates the way it sounds. He swallows hard and nods.

 

Jonny blinks at him for a few seconds and then he pushes past him and finally walks into the living room and sits down on the couch. “I have to tell you something, Patrick.”

 

“Okay,” Patrick says. He takes a deep breath and sits down next to him and tries to brace himself for it. Tries to rehearse it in his head, telling Jonny he’s happy for him. He chews on the inside of his cheek.

 

“I’m gay,” Jonny says. His neck turns red and the blush spreads up to his ears.

 

“I know,” Patrick says quietly. He takes Jonny’s hand, feels like it’s the right thing to do. Jonny squeezes, too hard.

 

“You knew?” Jonny says. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“I haven’t known very long,” Patrick says.

 

Jonny stares at him for so long that Patrick gets fidgety. He starts and stops several times, stutters. Patrick finally decides to just put him out of his misery.

 

“So you and Oshie…” he says.

 

“What?” Jonny furrows his brow.

 

Patrick sucks in a loud breath. “I’m happy for you,” he says. He tries his best to smile. “But if he hurts you I’ll-”

 

Jonny laughs. “I’m not interested in Oshie. We’re just friends!”

 

Patrick exhales. “Oh, I thought-”

 

“I love you,” Jonny says.

 

“I love you, too,” Patrick says automatically. They’ve said it before. They said it all the time when they were both angels.

 

Jonny frowns. “I’m in love with you, Patrick. Human love. I want-”

 

“You.” Patrick can’t breathe. “You’re-”

 

“I understand you can’t control your feelings and I’m not mad at you for not feeling that way about me, but I can’t stay here anymore. If you don’t. I’m sorry.”

 

“You idiot,” Patrick whispers, to himself as much as Jonny. He lets go of Jonny’s hand and moves right onto his lap.

 

“Patrick?” Jonny’s smiling up at him and touching his arms and Patrick tries to blink away the tears that are welling up in his eyes.

 

“I’ve been in love with you forever, Jonny.”

 

Jonny just stares at him. He looks amazed, and it’s _amazing_. “Why are you crying?”

 

Patrick shakes his head and bites his lip. He doesn’t even know why.

 

“You’re mine.” Jonny puts both hands on Patrick’s hips. “If you want to be.”

 

“I’ve always wanted to be yours, Jonny.”

 

“Thank God,” Jonny whispers. “Can I-” He moves a hand to Patrick’s hair and Patrick bites back a whimper. “Can I kiss you?”

 

Patrick can’t do anything but nod and close his eyes and make an embarrassing noise when their lips meet. He’s crying and Jonny’s swiping the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs while he kisses him, parting his lips to let Patrick lick into his mouth, and it’s overwhelming, so overwhelming that Patrick has to stop for a few seconds and hide his face in Jonny’s neck and breathe. When he sits back up to look at him Jonny clutches a handful of the front of his shirt.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Patrick says. He leans in to kiss him again and Jonny pulls him closer, Patrick can feel how hard he is and he _wants_.

 

“Should we-” Patrick murmurs against Jonny’s lips. “Bedroom?”

 

“No sex until we’re married,” Jonny says.

 

Patrick leans back to look at him. “You’re serious?”

 

“Of course,” Jonny says. “No sex, no sleeping together. Until we’re married.”

 

Patrick giggles. Jonny’s hair is a mess and his cheeks are as red as they are on the ice and he’s smiling this soft, soft smile, still holding a fistful of Patrick’s shirt. Patrick loves him so much it hurts.

 

“Whatever you want, Jonny.”

 

**

They’re in Canada in _December_ , which seems like the worst idea ever for a wedding, but Jonny insisted they go somewhere it was legal, and even though Patrick pointed out that there were plenty of less arctic places where gay marriage was legal, Jonny seemed to have his heart set on Canada for some reason, and Patrick couldn’t say no.

 

As for why they’re here in the middle of winter, well, that was all Jonny’s idea, too. He found a cabin for their honeymoon on a lake in the middle of nowhere, and even Patrick had to admit when Jonny showed him pictures of the place that it was pretty breathtaking. In the _summer_ , at least.  But Jonny wanted to be able to skate on the lake. Patrick’s quickly discovering that it’s very hard to say no to Jonny, and honestly he doesn’t truly mind. It’s not like they’re going to be leaving the bed much, anyway. But it’s funny to watch Jonny pout and grumble when Patrick hesitates to agree with his plans.

 

Not to mention, Jonny’s paying for it all. He’d taken some accelerated courses and gotten an accounting degree in only a few months, studying day and night, and already landed a job with a six figure salary. Patrick was pretty sure that was not even humanly possible and spent a lot of time researching the company that hired Jonny to make sure it wasn’t some kind of front for an international drug cartel or something. But it turns out that Jonny is just really good with numbers, and really good at saving companies money.

 

Patrick got a job at the rink, coaching little kids in hockey, and even though it’s only for half the year and it’s not much money, Jonny insisted he didn’t mind paying most of the bills.

 

Jonny was constantly busy during those first several months, and Patrick hated it, but it did at least distract him from the long wait until the wedding. Now that Jonny was established at his job he was able to work from home most of the time, though, and usually no more than six or eight hours a day. In the evenings when Jonny puts his laptop and paperwork away for the day they make dinner together, and sometimes they go for a long walk after, holding hands. More than anything, Patrick’s looking forward to being able to sleep next to Jonny at night, instead of kissing him and going off to bed alone.

 

Before Jonny could go to school or either of them could work, they had to choose last names. Patrick simply chose ‘Kane’ from a soap opera he watched (and which Jonny pretended not to watch). Jonny, of course, had to be difficult, and choose the last name of some French-Canadian hockey player from fifty years ago that he read about on Wikipedia.

 

“Toews? Nobody’s going to pronounce it correctly.”

 

Jonny had just glared. “I’ll _tell_ them how to pronounce it.”

 

Patrick was only a little smug when they made the first team and got real jerseys and people insisted on calling Jonny ‘Toes’ even after he explained how to pronounce it. Jonny reminded Patrick that it was going to be his problem, too, soon enough, since they’d decided to hyphenate their last names when they were married. Patrick agreed on the condition that his name would be first. Kane-Toews just sounded better, and Patrick knew Jonny agreed even if he wouldn’t admit it. Their coach couldn’t make it to their wedding but had given them jerseys with their new last name on them before they left, and Patrick had gotten a little choked up.

 

He’s more than a little choked up now, in this freezing cold church holding Jonny’s hands and reciting his vows and seeing Duncs and Seabs, smiling from the first pew. There’s only a handful of people there-the few teammates who could make the trip, the few angels who weren’t busy, and Oshie, because even though Jonny told Patrick it was okay if he didn’t want to invite him, Patrick wanted him to be there, to show him that Jonny is _his_. Not that he really needs to worry about Oshie anymore, judging by the way he’s looking at his date. Patrick’s not too thrilled about Oshie seeing him cry, but he’s too happy to care at the moment.

  
They don’t have much of a reception, since there are so few people there. They have a private room reserved at a nice Italian place and everyone makes toasts and congratulates them. They barely eat, Jonny holds Patrick’s hand under the table and squeezes it every time their eyes meet and they leave as soon as they can get away with it without seeming rude.

 

It’s a long ride to the cabin, and the roads are wet and slushy, but Jonny’s rented a big four wheel drive truck and it’s not too difficult. Patrick has to drive, since Jonny doesn’t have his license yet.

 

After a few hours of driving, they finally arrive just before sunset. They take their coats and shoes and hats off in the entryway, and then they’re just standing there, staring at each other for a moment.

 

They’ve discussed how this was going to go, and even argued about it. Patrick wants to fuck him, of course (he’s spent the better part of the last ten months groping his ass as often as possible), but he had to convince Jonny that they’d work their way up to that later. Patrick’s never bottomed before, either, but he at least has some idea what to expect. He finally managed to convince Jonny by telling him he wanted it to be a first for both of them, which then led to a tearful apology from Patrick about not being a virgin, because even though Jonny said he figured as much it was pretty obvious that he was hoping that he was wrong.

 

They’ve waited so long, but now Patrick’s in no rush.  Jonny seems nervous, and they have plenty of time.  They walk around checking out the cabin and admiring the view. The back wall of the bedroom is mostly glass, with a view of a frozen lake and then nothing but pine trees.

 

Jonny kisses him, almost chastely, and disappears into the bathroom. Patrick takes his jacket and tie off and flops back onto the bed, holding his arm in the air, staring at his ring.

 

He can hear Jonny, praying. Patrick’s prayer is a hushed one of gratitude, and a  whispered wish that he won’t ruin this, somehow.

 

He opens his eyes and sits up when he feels Jonny sit on the bed. He’s in his underwear, a sight Patrick’s seen every morning for the past year, but it’s the first time he’s ever seen Jonny look shy about it.

 

“Hi,” Patrick whispers.

 

Jonny blinks at him, smiles. He starts unbuttoning Patrick’s shirt, not kissing him, just watching his own shaking hands.

 

“I can’t wait to see all of you,” Jonny says, and Patrick tosses his shirt on the floor, lays back to shimmy out of his pants and boxers.

 

Jonny kisses his knee and runs his hands up Patrick’s thighs and Patrick bites down hard on his lip. Jonny’s staring at him, his eyes dark and his expression serious and Patrick puffs his chest out a little, tries to look more confident than he feels.

 

“You’re so pretty,” Jonny says. Patrick can feel himself blushing, he has to turn his head away from Jonny’s gaze for a moment. He’s relieved when Jonny finally leans down to kiss him. He knows how to handle this part of things. The way Jonny’s looking at him, not so much.

 

But maybe not, because as soon as he wraps his legs around Jonny’s waist, Jonny growls softly into his neck and grinds down into him and Patrick can’t think or breathe.

 

“Jonny,” he whines. He arches up into him and shoves a hand down the back of Jonny’s underwear. Jonny lifts off him for a second to get them off, and Patrick tries to use the break in friction to breathe and dial it back a little, but then he’s seeing Jonny like _this_ for the very first time, and that’s definitely not taking the edge off of anything.

 

“Finally,” he blurts, and Jonny laughs quietly. Patrick lets himself have a long, lingering stare at Jonny’s ass when he gets off the bed to get the lube from his bag.

 

“I know what you’re staring at,” Jonny says, when he’s bent over his suitcase.

 

“It’s mine now, I’m allowed.” He says it with a shaky little laugh, but the look Jonny gives him when he turns around makes him blush even harder, if that were possible. His face is on fire.

 

Jonny takes his time with the prep, and Patrick’s grateful that he apparently read up on what to do, since he’s not sure he could be articulate enough to tell him. He’s watching Patrick’s face the entire time.

 

Patrick tries to be quiet but eventually he can’t, since Jonny apparently also researched exactly where to press his fingers to make Patrick gasp and moan.

 

“Does that mean it feels good?” Jonny says, and it’s so earnest that Patrick puts his forearm over his eyes to hide from Jonny’s gaze for a moment.

 

“Really good,” he mumbles. “Yeah. I’m kind of loud, I guess?”

 

“I like it,” Jonny says, pulling Patrick’s arm away from his face. He’s lining himself up and Patrick hitches his legs up around his waist and tries to breathe. They’re so, so close, closer than they’ve ever been, and Jonny’s about to be inside him for the first time. It’s almost too much to keep his eyes open, but he wants to remember this, every second of it.

 

It doesn’t hurt as much as he was expecting, but he still has to dig his nails into Jonny’s shoulders and tell him to hold still once he’s all the way inside. Jonny’s staring down at him with his mouth open, his face just too far away to kiss. His eyes are wide and black, pupils blown. He looks crazy and Patrick can’t help but smile.

 

“It feels,” Jonny says, his voice cracking. He shifts his hips a little and his breath catches. “Patrick. Can I-I have to-”

 

Patrick eases his grip on Jonny’s shoulders. “Slow.”

 

Jonny barely moves at first; shallow, slow thrusts. He’s quiet but Patrick’s mostly focused on breathing and getting used to the feeling, so he can hear the soft sounds Jonny’s making, throaty little murmurs. Patrick doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Jonny stills and brings a hand to his cheek.

 

“Am I hurting you?”

 

“No,” Patrick rubs his face into his shoulder.”Shit, sorry. I’m just. Happy. And you feel so good, Jonny.”

 

Jonny kisses his neck. “So do you.”

 

“I want-,” Patrick pushes at Jonny’s shoulder. “Get on your back.”

 

Jonny doesn’t move for a second, until Patrick starts to push harder at his arm. Once he gets the idea Jonny rolls them over in one fluid motion. Patrick sits up and adjusts to the new angle, shifts his hips a little.

 

“Oh,” Jonny pushes up right away, his hands going right to Patrick’s hips to guide him, he’s definitely still the one in control here. Patrick lets him set the pace, slides up and sinks back down onto him every time Jonny lifts his hips and presses harder with his fingers. Patrick can’t believe how good it is, how easily they fit together like they were meant for this, how it feels like they know each other’s bodies so well already.

 

“Not gonna last,” Patrick says, and he leans forward a little, braces himself with one hand on Jonny’s chest, and the other around his dick. He comes like that, Jonny’s hand wrapped around his while he strokes himself through it. Jonny’s eyes flick from their hands to Patrick’s face and finally fall closed when Patrick smiles at him, breathless.

 

Patrick lays on him and lets Jonny roll them back over and then he’s surprised at how good it feels when Jonny starts fucking into him again. He expects it to be a little uncomfortable right after coming but instead finds he likes the oversensitive, almost-too-much feeling. His toes curl and he can’t control the whimpery, almost whiny sounds he’s making.

 

“Come on,” Patrick whispers. Jonny’s chewing on his own lower lip, clearly fighting to stay controlled and gentle. “Harder, it’s okay.”

 

Jonny says something incomprehensible and brings his hands up behind Patrick’s knees, pressing in with his thumbs and pushing Patrick’s legs back more. Patrick can tell he’s close, he loses his rhythm after a few seconds and he flushes red from the tips of his ears all the way down his chest.  

 

“You wanna come for me, Jonny? Come all up inside me.”

 

Jonny lets go of his legs and drops more of his weight on Patrick, kisses his neck and moans, deep and broken. Patrick feels it when he comes and he tightens his legs around Jonny’s waist, holds him as close as he can.

 

“Patrick,” Jonny says, his breath hot against Patrick’s cheek. “My Patrick.” He props himself back up on his elbows and they kiss, slow and wet before Jonny collapses onto him again.  Patrick takes his weight for a while, sliding his hands over Jonny’s back and feeling the way his heart is pounding against Patrick’s chest.

 

“Wish I could stay in you forever,” Jonny mumbles into his neck.

 

Patrick tugs at his hair. “Can’t. I have to breathe eventually, Jonny.”

 

“Sorry,” Jonny says. He props himself back up on his elbows and stares down at Patrick. He’s all disheveled and sweaty and Patrick thinks he’s never looked so handsome.

 

“Sex is pretty messy,” Jonny says.

 

Patrick giggles. “That’s what showers are for.”

 

“In a minute,” Jonny says. He pulls out quickly and then they settle on their sides, facing each other. “I don’t want to move.”

 

“So,” Patrick says quietly. “How was that for a first time?”

 

“It wasn’t what I expected.”

 

“Better or worse?” Patrick whispers.

 

“Better,” Jonny says, pulling him in for a kiss. “So much better. It’s just more. More than I thought…”

 

“Yeah,” Patrick says, because he knows exactly what he means.

 

“I’m sure we can get better at it, though,” Jonny says, and Patrick laughs.

 

They doze for a while after they shower, Jonny pressed up against Patrick’s back, their legs entwined. Patrick wakes up to Jonny petting his hair and whispering.

 

“Patrick, Patrick, wake up.”

 

Patrick blinks and turns over in Jonny’s arms, with difficulty since they’re so entangled. “What’s the matter?”

 

“It’s snowing!” Jonny says, gesturing towards the window.

 

Patrick wants to tell him he’s seen plenty of snow already but Jonny looks so excited that he has to sit up and look.

 

“Wow,” he breathes. He can see now why Jonny woke him up. The snowflakes are huge, the biggest he’s ever seen, and there’s barely any wind so they’re falling slowly onto the ice and pines, piling up quickly. It really is beautiful.

 

“Want to go skate?”

 

“Yeah,” Patrick says. He sits up and stretches. “Definitely.”

 

They bundle up and trudge in their skates down the little path to the lake. Patrick’s glad he brought a flashlight, since the path is dark, but once they’re out of the woods and on the ice it’s not difficult to see once their eyes adjust.

 

They hold hands and glide. The ice feels different under his skates than in the rink and Patrick finds that he prefers it. He wishes they could play hockey out here and wishes they’d thought to bring their sticks and pucks.

 

Even though they’re wearing gloves Patrick’s very aware of the ring on his finger, of Jonny’s fingers pressing against it, and it hits him in a little rush again.

 

“We’re _married,_ ” he says. “I’m a married human man.”

 

They both laugh at that, and Jonny gets a handful of the front of Patrick’s coat to haul him in for a kiss.

 

“Your nose is cold,” Patrick says.

 

Jonny rubs a gloved hand over his cheek.

 

“You like it here?”

 

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “It’s beautiful. I wish we could stay longer.” He looks up at the big, heavy flakes of snow still falling. “We might end up having to stay longer anyway, if we get snowed in.”

 

“It’s ours,” Jonny says. He lets out a huge cloud of breath. “I bought it.”

 

“You-what?” Patrick smacks Jonny on the chest. “You _bought_ it?” He’d assume Jonny was kidding, except Jonny doesn’t really kid.

 

“Well, there’s a mortgage, of course. I had to have Coach Q help me with all of that. But yes. It’s ours.”

 

“Jonny,” Patrick says. He rubs his nose with his sleeve. “Really?”

 

“We can still keep the apartment in Chicago, I know you can’t stay out here in the woods all the time,” Jonny says. “You like it?”

 

“Of course I do, idiot.” Patrick hugs him and sticks his face in Jonny’s scarf so he won’t notice that he’s tearing up.

 

“We should put some goals out here,” Patrick says. He looks back up at Jonny’s face. “Maybe if we ever adopt some kids we could teach them to skate out here.” He holds his breath and cringes inwardly a little, but Jonny just nods, like he’d already thought about it.

 

“There’s fish in here, too, I checked,” Jonny says. “In the summer maybe I could catch some and cook them for us.”

 

Patrick laughs. “Whatever you want, Jonny.”

 

They stay out until there’s too much snow on the ice to skate without difficulty. Before they get on the path back to the cabin, Patrick flops over onto his back in the snow on the shore of the lake and starts flapping his arms and legs.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Making a snow angel, duh.” Patrick stands up and hops back. “See?”

 

Jonny scowls. “Why does it look like it’s wearing a dress?”

 

“It’s you know, like a flowing robe or whatever. Like the paintings.”

 

Jonny smirks. He flops back in the snow next to Patrick's angel and flaps his arms, keeping his legs together. He stands up and hops away and crosses his arms.

 

“There,” he says. “Mine’s not wearing a dress.”

 

“Human Jonny is a real dick,” Patrick says with a laugh.

 

“But you love me,” Jonny says.

 

Patrick rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss him. “I do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> -I love Sharpy and Crow. I’m sorry. I promise everything will work out for them and all will be forgiven in the future.  
> -Jonny not knowing slang terms for things made parts of this a little awkward. Namely, I’ve never typed the word ‘masturbate’ so many times in my entire life. Believe me, it was just as painful to write as it is to read.  
> -I realize some of these names are weird for an angel. Just pretend Sharpy is a contraction of something fancy and Aramaic.  
> -Obviously the first part of this was written before the Seguin trade.


End file.
